The Legacy
by LilacFree
Summary: Sequel to the Big Finish audio story 'The Gathering'. Features Tegan Jovanka, the Fifth Doctor, and the Torchwood crew. Tegan discovers that it's not as easy to put the Doctor back in his box as she thought. Mature language. Now COMPLETE
1. Prologue

Prologue

This story is a sequel to the Big Finish Fifth Doctor audio, _The Gathering_ , and also refers to the related audios _The Reaping_ (Sixth Doctor), and _The Harvest_ (Seventh Doctor). I provide a brief synopsis here. Spoilers abound.

What has gone before:

The Reaping: This takes place in the 1980s. The Sixth Doctor and Peri visit Peri's Baltimore home and find Cybermen in the offing. The Doctor defeats the Cybermen, but several people die, including the father of Peri's best friend, Kathy Chambers. Kathy's brother Nate is partially converted into a Cyberman. The Doctor has to leave to follow another thread of the problem. Peri goes with him. When they return, they find that Peri's house has blown up and her mother is dead. Heartbroken, Peri decides never to return home.

The Gathering: This takes place in 2006. Having left Peri and Erimem to enjoy themselves in Monte Carlo, The Fifth Doctor is tracking down odd energy surges. The first one he checks is in 80s Baltimore, but his successor incarnation is already involved. The next is in Brisbane. He tracks the location to Chambers Pharmaceutical Company. Kath Chambers has kept a few pieces of Cyber technology, hoping to cure her brother. With the assistance of an unusually skilled computer tech called James Clark, Kath has developed this alien tech into a sophisticated medical system that she believes will be able to cure all ills. She only needs two more things: one, a highly intelligent human mind to fuse with the Cyber tech to provide it with complete functionality; two, a first patient who cannot be cured by any other means. She finds the first in her receptionist, Eve Morris, who has an IQ of 140.

The Doctor discovers that the patient candidate is Tegan Jovanka, who is dying of an inoperable brain tumour. Furthermore, the tumour is of alien origin. Tegan is not at all pleased to have the Doctor land in the middle of the life. She knows that means trouble, and she's right. In turn, he doesn't think much of the life she has chosen to lead. She runs her father's animal feed company, and lives a life dedicated to work and appears to have no life outside of it. She's even driven away her boyfriend, one Michael Tanaka.

Alarmed by the Doctor's arrival, Kath Chambers and James Clark force the issue and kidnap Tegan and Eve. Eve is subjected to the Cyber technology and made the heart of System. Tegan refuses to be cured by alien technology and would rather die in peace. Clark and Chambers accept the Doctor in her place. Dr. Chambers is aware of his ability to regenerate and thinks she could learn how to cure death itself with what they learn from him. While being examined by System, the Doctor discovers that the Cyber tech it is based on came from highly advanced Cybermen, and that it also includes Gallifreyan technology. Believing he may die, he makes System promise to find a cure for Tegan. And knowing he may live, he also gets System to help him set a trigger in his mind to induce amnesia so that he won't remember these events when it might interfere with his personal timeline and cause a paradox.

James Clark escapes with a full copy of System, including the data retrieved from the Doctor. The Brisbane installation is destroyed. Tegan Jovanka refuses the Doctor's help and sends him away, knowing that she will die soon.

The Harvest: This takes place in 2012. The Seventh Doctor finds a hospital with some very unusual patients. It is run by a highly advanced computer system that supports all hospital functions. Users address it as System, or even affectionately, as Sys.

While this story picks up many threads, including those of the televised episodes, it is first and last the story of one Tegan Jovanka. She's sent the Doctor packing. She has a stunning apartment, a devoted boyfriend, and less than a year left to enjoy them.

On to the story!


	2. Ch 1 Going Down Into Darkness

Disclaimer: I don't own Doctor Who. Tegan owns me.

* * *

Chapter 1: Going Down Into Darkness

* * *

Tegan stared into the mirror. Her head was pounding. As she watched, a patch of skin on her forehead swelled up, blackened, burst ripely open. A Thing crawled out, trailing black, corrupted blood. Her skull caved in behind it. 

o - 0 - o

Tegan sat up, struggling out of the dream, groaning. Her head was pounding. The pain was the worst yet. She could hardly bear to touch her head. Her vision kept fading, and she muttered, or swore, prayers that she had learned as a child.

To lose her sight meant that the end was near. She didn't dare drive like this. Tegan took her pain medication and called a taxi to take her to her doctor's appointment. She was glad Michael had left early to go to work. He'd be taking up the slack of management in her absence.

In the waiting room, she sat staring out a window that had an ocean view. There were a couple of city blocks between her and the shore, but she could see the horizon where sea met air. It was a hazy day and she could not be sure of the line of division. Tegan had had to give up her pilot's license when the tumour was diagnosed. The civil aviation authority was wise to require it. Right now she could imagine flying out over the sea and ending it all in a suicidal swan dive. It was a fleeting vision. She knew she would die soon, but a pilot's love of aircraft made her flinch at the loss of a good plane. Then there would be all the rescue services that would be obliged to go search for her and waste valuable time and resources that might be needed for someone who wanted to live.

Strange, how coming into life and leaving it were so affected by other people's choices. What the system wanted her to do was submit to her doctor's best guess at medical treatment, bear her pain until it killed her, and then be properly buried—all documented for the convenience of those whose job was the filing of documents.

She wished she'd gone away in the TARDIS.

She wished this at least once a day. How often did she decide that she'd been right not to go? About the same. At the moment, regret was ahead.

It wasn't up to the Doctor to save her. People died. Being the Doctor's friend wasn't enough to excuse her from the ordinary business of life. The voice of regret whispered that having the choice to do something else made her special and she'd thrown that away. Was it right to choose to be ordinary, or was it contrary pride to choose not to be special?

Regret was two up.

"Ms. Jovanka? The doctor will see you now."

_The Doctor? Fat chance of that._

o - 0 - o

An hour later, she was hearing the words she dreaded. "We need to consider hospice care. At home, if you can arrange a caregiver, or in a professional facility. Considering the stress on your brain, I would expect you to start having convulsions." Doctor Ellington tapped his pen and added gently, "There's really no point in admitting you to the hospital."

"Because it's for people you might be able to save, right?" The doctor winced at her blunt words. "Doc, I've had a long time to get used to this idea. I'd rather be in my own home, thank you."

Home? Her apartment. Her 'stunning' apartment. It wasn't home. She didn't own it. Why had she never bothered to buy her own property? Tegan could have afforded it. Instead, she'd rented, and hired professional decorators to pretty up the place so it would look like the residence of a successful, independent businesswoman. It was so picture pretty she'd avoided getting a pet. A dog or a cat would have been hell on her expensive leather furniture.

Only Michael got to share her fancy silk sheets. Honestly, they were kind of slippery and not all that comfortable.

"Can you recommend someone I can speak with about this? About hiring a caregiver, or even a facility. I mean, if it were posh enough, why not? I mean to die in style." Tegan grinned, and held it through the answering polite smile her doctor summoned up. He had the look of one used to the hollow gallantry of the condemned.

She took the printout of contact numbers he gave her and got the receptionist to call her a taxi.

Tegan Jovanka climbed into the back of the taxi, gave the driver her home address, and sat back with the printout on her lap. So many of the names were Asian or Indian. Didn't Westerners study medicine any more? The sorry thing was not who became medical professionals now, but who didn't. After the turn of the millennia, Tegan had come to feel that time travel could happen without a TARDIS, and be even more wayward. Everyone was being hurtled into a future that seemed poised to change in inexplicable ways so that the world she'd grown up in was as lost to her as any of the alien planets she'd visited.

Tegan Jovanka, the Star Walker. She'd heard the Song of the TARDIS and it had changed her forever. The Tegan that could have been if that tire hadn't blown and she'd made that flight had been as much murdered by the Master as poor Auntie Vanessa. She might have regrets about not letting the Doctor help with her cancer, but she still didn't regret leaving the TARDIS. She might have made a more graceful exit, but it had been time to strike out on her own. That day had shown her one true thing: the Doctor couldn't be expected to save the day. No stain on him—he tried his best, and it hurt him to fail. But he wasn't a fairy godfather with a magic sonic screwdriver that put everything right with a wave. He was a fallible being who struggled with his strange and awesome life, as might any human. He simply operated on a grander scale. The brain tumour was a tiny event in comparison. Any human could die of cancer; its alien origin didn't seem important.

The one reason she hadn't given the Doctor for turning him down is that she didn't want him to fail to save her. She didn't want to be another Adric.

o - 0 - o

_This taxi is taking forever. _Tegan checked her location.

White ceiling. White walls. And she was lying down.

No, she was _strapped_ down.

That could NOT be good. She knew from experience. This wasn't a flashback to that imprisonment with the Terileptil where he'd turned her into a zombie box packer, was it? No, the light there had been greener and the air had held the sour tang of rat urine. This place smelled like a hospital.

The last thing she remembered was riding in the taxi and thinking about the Doctor. Right and Regret had evened out the score again. Now someone had changed the game.

"Hello? Is anyone there?" Tegan's voice sounded as dry and rough as her throat felt. She coughed. "I could use some water, if you don't mind."

A sterile gowned figure with a goggled hood appeared with a bottle. A straw was sticking out one end and it was offered to her mouth. Tegan was parched enough to suck. It tasted like water, if it tasted like anything, the sterile and distilled variety.

Game as ever, she thanked Goggles and inquired, "Now, got any beer?"

"Alcohol is contraindicated, despite my sympathies. Ms. Jovanka, you have something of great interest to us in your head."

"That's a line I've never heard in all my life."

It was hard to tell if Goggles was goggling, but the cant of his shoulders indicated that he was taken aback. It didn't stop him from talking. "You've been on the terminal list for nearly a year now. We've been gathering information about your case. We--"

"We? Who's 'we' when we're at home, then?" Tegan could feel an ache gathering behind her brows, but welcomed the edge it put in her voice.

"Is the name of our organization really important when we're offering you a chance to live? A slim chance, mind, but we have resources at our command that your physicians have never dreamed of."

"What's the catch? I mean, if all you were going to do was offer to try and save me, why did you kidnap me and why the HELL am I strapped down?"

The light seemed to knife into her eyes as the headache started up with a drum roll of pounding that preluded a symphony of pain. Despite her best intentions to be hard, Tegan whimpered.

"We'll talk later. For now, I think you need this." He started to inject something into the intravenous tubing that she now noticed was attached to her arm. Her vision went sparkly and as oblivion took her she dimly heard something about cooperation.

o - 0 - o

Goggles was back and he'd brought a friend. She assumed one of them was the first Goggles. Goggles 2 was female, and was peering into Tegan's right eye. She couldn't see out of it.

"What the bloody hell are you doing?"

Goggles did the talking. "Ms. Jovanka, you are in immediate peril of your life. We may not be able to save you."

"Do you actually give a damn? You want what's in my head because it's alien, right?"

The pain was there. It didn't quite hurt her, but it was there, a dark shape dimly visible within the soft fog of narcosis.

Goggles tried again, "You could be dead within the day—"

"So why don't you just crack my skull open and scoop out what you want? Why bother to keep me alive? What's in it for you?" The last words were snarled out so hard that Tegan could feel spittle falling back against her mouth.

Goggles 2 said calmly, "We want you awake while we operate. We want you to be able to answer questions in case you die on the table. You might well die, whether or not you are awake during the operation. We do have a surgical plan that affords you a slim chance of survival, but you have to be awake so we can see if we're injuring parts of your brain you can't live without."

"Or want to? I've no interest in being a vegetable. I'd rather you pull the plug, if it comes to that." Tegan was amazed at how strong her voice was. Also lurking in the fog was the sullen red core of the temper that had always been a part of her. Apparently she was going to get to go out, as the saying went, as she came in: bloody and screaming. Damn if she wouldn't like to give them a piece of her mind as well as a piece of her brain.

"Noted. We would have tried this before, Ms. Jovanka, but we're—"

"Can you get started instead of talking my ear off? I'm thinking time's in short supply."

"Very well. The surgery is already prepped." Goggles and Goggles 2, mystery medics, began transferring her to a trolley. Goggles 2 went on talking. "We are a small organization, wealthy in information but limited in funds. We only recently were able to put together the assets needed to handle your case."

Goggles murmured, jocular and bad at it, "We thought we'd have to resort to digging you up."

Tegan rolled her working eye at him. "Aren't I a lucky girl then? Ha, ha."

Goggles 2 shook her head, but an amused note warmed her clinical voice. "I need to start asking questions now, Ms. Jovanka. Do you know what happened to trigger the formation of the tumour? It would have to be toxic alien contact of some sort."

"Spoiled for choice, sorry."

"Head trauma?"

"I was knocked about, possessed, and hypnotized on a regular basis. Occupational hazard, practically."

"Mmmm. Did you suffer any illnesses?"

"I had a couple of fevers. They weren't supposed to be dangerous. I don't remember what they were called."

"An alien virus could have lodged in your brain tissue. It's an avenue to explore. Sexual contact? Did you ever have sex with an alien?"

"_No._" Tegan infused the negative with as much bile as she could produce, staring at Goggles 2 with both the working eye and the dead one.

They wheeled her into the operating theatre. Even out of one eye, it had an air of the jury rig. Tegan thought it was a rather competent air: a fix put in by experts who knew their tech.

"It's an obvious vector of contamination by alien cells, Ms. Jovanka. Please don't take it personally."

"I'll be the judge of that," said Tegan, determined to be stroppy to the last gasp.

Needles pricked her scalp and she felt the skin go numb. A single throb of pain beat at her skull before the pain beast subsided. Behind her, she heard the chatter of the surgeons as they discussed the technical necessities of removing large sections of skull. They seemed to be planning to reattach it somehow. A tear leaked out of the corner of each eye. She could smell her death on the air, blood scented. Suddenly Tegan Jovanka wanted very much to live. Give her one more day, to ignore this last and worst fortune and simply enjoy this beautiful world that the Doctor had so often saved. He'd saved it for humans, her among them, and she felt a surge of love and gratitude for him.

More for herself than for anyone there, she muttered, "If you see the Doctor, tell him I said 'thank you.'" A sponge mopped at the spilled tears on her face.

"Maybe you'll be able to tell him yourself, Tegan Jovanka." The new voice was American. He had come in on her blind side, but she could hear behind her the movement of surgery stop.

"Doctors, step away from the brain, please. I'm sure the lady doesn't want her operation stopped for a gun battle. Owen, have a look."

"Every minute is vital." Tegan recognized Goggles 2's cool voice, edged now with anger.

"I entirely agree. Have you confirmed the source of the contamination?"

"Who the bloody hell are you? I can't see a thing," Tegan complained, more angry because she was afraid and confused.

A dark haired man with a round, blunt face walked around her and out of her sight at the top end of the operating table. He was holding a gun in one hand, and a magnifying glass in the other. Tegan felt her dead eye twitch, but she didn't see anything. Her arms flexed, testing the restraining straps.

The next man who came into view also had a gun, but he was better looking. His eyes were a vivid blue, and his hair was dark and silky. He had an engaging smile, and Tegan wished he'd lean over so that she could slap it off his face. That is, if she had a free arm. "Sorry about that. I'm Jack Harkness, Ms. Jovanka. I wish I could have made your acquaintance under more pleasant circumstances. Mitchell, show the lady the photograph. I've been listening in. You haven't asked the money question."

"I was about to get to there. I didn't want her panicked until we could control the reaction." Goggles 2 hove into view again.

"Panic? I'm probably about to die. How much worse could it get?" Tegan immediately regretted the words. Like a jinx, similar phrases had preceded more than one hair-raising adventure in the Doctor's company.

"You know better," Harkness said. She stared at his echo of her thoughts. It took a moment for her to notice the image on the photograph.

It was a picture of Tegan, with a wad of bandage taped to the right side of her forehead. She knew when it had been taken. After leaving the Doctor, she had ended up in a casualty ward to get checked out. They'd kept her overnight and released her to her grandfather.

"We need to know how you received this injury," said Goggles 2, aka Mitchell. "We have a copy of the X-Ray taken of you at the hospital, and it may have been the seminal event that—"

_How much worse…_

"Kill me," Tegan said urgently.

* * *

tbc 


	3. Ch 2 Legacy of Destruction

The scene at the beginning comes from the Fifth Doctor episode 'Resurrection of the Daleks'. In this context, it is well named._  
_

* * *

_The Dalek materialised at the warehouse end of the Time Corridor. They ambushed it, desperation versus technology. Tegan went down almost immediately, but the others pushed the Dalek out an upper story window. It couldn't fly._

The realisation came to her like a knife thrust into her vitals. She twisted at her bonds with the futile impulse to rip the THING out of her living brain.

Until now, only her nightmares had hinted that the Dalek in the warehouse was the source of the tumour. It had delivered more than a panicked blow to her head. She remembered a sharp, _piercing_ pain, followed by swift blackness.

"You, Yank, put a bullet in that spot." Her voice had gone weak and shrill and her stomach roiled.

Her right eye, the sightless one, twitched, and she saw his gaze shift.

"Jack, you should look at this," a Welsh voice said.

"I am," Jack Harkness said quietly, still looking at Tegan's face. A tear spilled out of her left eye. He came forward and took a small instrument with a mirror on the end and showed Tegan her face. Her right eye had partly changed colour to a sickly blue. She could see it focused on the mirror but she still saw nothing on the right side. Something else was looking through that eye.

"Jack," Tegan said hoarsely, "You can't leave this alive. You have to kill me and burn everything. Destroy all samples. If you're sane, you have to do it, to protect the world."

He put his hand on her arm, warm and alive. "Tell me what did this to you, Tegan."

"You won't know what I'm talking about. All of you–if this thing could grow inside me, it must have done it for a reason. Whatever you think you can profit from this, it's not worth it."

Jack squeezed her arm. "Say it."

Tegan stared at him. He was looking at her now, not the Thing trying to steal her body. "A Dalek," she said, watching him.

There was a soft excited mutter behind her, but a muscle was twitching in Jack's jaw. She thought his haunted expression must mirror hers. "You know. _You know_. You understand, don't you, that you have to kill me? Even if it's mindless, you don't want humans studying Dalek tissue."

He took her by the shoulders and leaned over her. "I know. And I have no intention of letting the Daleks take anything else away from me. Mitchell, put her under."

"No, no," Tegan moaned. "I want to know it's dead. Don't knock me out."

"I'm not _him_, Tegan. I can't get away with his brand of heroism. If it comes to that, I promise I will make sure that every Dalek cell is dead if I have to sift your ashes to do it."

"Thanks," Tegan breathed out, gratitude making one eye at least leak tears. The darkness rose up and she let it take her. With a bang. A BANG. It echoed in the darkness, but Tegan was no longer listening.

o - 0 - o

Jack Harkness had stopped the fight before it began, knocking up Anderson's gun arm so that his shot spent in midair. He'd made Mitchell's surgeon, Dr. Wozniak, glue Tegan Jovanka's cranium back on and load her into the cold sleep chamber. Then they'd herded them into the same lockup from which they'd earlier sprung Ianto.

"What do you mean, the system says it will only talk to Tegan Jovanka? Tell it you're Tegan."

Toshiko looked pained. "I tried that already, Jack. But it knew I wasn't her. We'll have to wake her up."

Owen snorted, "Bring her around and that thing in her head will grow. Cold storage inhibits the growth of the alien tissue. That's the one thing Mitchell's team figured out right. Otherwise she would have never made it alive from Australia."

Toshiko kept an eye on Jack. He was frowning. Ianto had infiltrated Mitchell's rogue Torchwood agent group. His knowledge of cyber systems from trying to help Lisa had made him a trusted resource. They had caught him forwarding data when they returned to the lab with Tegan. Fortunately, they had locked Ianto up to question later.

The alien tech enhanced computer system had been the original focus of their mission. Jack was very interested in exactly what kind of information the main database contained on aliens, and on one alien in particular. Then Tegan Jovanka had come into it. Toshiko had no idea how, but Jack knew who she was. The next thing she knew, they'd been on a plane to Cape Town.

"_Dalek,_" Jack said, investing a heart's worth of loathing into two syllables.

"That's the name of the other mechanical race that was at the battle of Canary Wharf, right?"

"There's an organic creature inside the metal shell. Somehow, it implanted a node of cells in Tegan. Like a sleeper agent–indeed, probably exactly like a sleeper agent."

"Sleeping for two decades?"

"They're good at long term planning. I bet System has the answers. It's so hard to intimidate computers. It's not easy to seduce them, either."

Toshiko hoped that Jack was joking, but she never knew with him.

There was alien tech behind System, too, according to Ianto. It had a measure of self-awareness and had cooperated with him, allowed the transfer of data to the Hub in Cardiff. Now it refused cooperation.

"Can't we wake Tegan up?"

"Only as a last resort." Judging by the hard tone in Jack's voice, it would be a far last resort.

o - 0 - o

Gwen Cooper sat by the Australian woman's chamber. She looked so small and cold in the glassy tube. The shaved head added youth, not age to her features. Her chin still had a stubborn tilt to it even in the artificially induced dormant state.

"I know it's daft talking to you. You can't hear me. It seems more kind to talk, somehow. You're not dead; I don't want to treat you like that. Jack says you've been through a lot in your life. I don't know what he knows about you that he's not sharing, but I guess you're not like him or you wouldn't be in this pickle."

Gwen got up and checked the indicators on the monitor. Everything was in the green. Tegan had only been in there a couple of hours.

"The people that had you, they scared me. Not because of what they did to you, but who they were. I don't know if my team was ever that bad. So ruthless, so driven, so willing to treat people like scientific experiments instead of other living souls. We had the operating theatre bugged. I heard how you talked back to them. I hope we can help you. I like it when we save people."

"Torchwood… you start living with the weird stuff and it can take you over… uh. Sorry. Big mouth and all that."

"That's for sure." It was the Mitchell woman, holding a gun trained at Gwen. She was still wearing her surgical scrubs, but not the biocontainment hood. Her short dark hair was crumpled.

Another voice said behind her, "Stand up slowly. Keep your hands where we can see them, and you might live through this."

"How did you lot get out?" Gwen raised her hands, trying to spot how many were in here and where they were.

"I think you should answer our questions instead. Where's Ianto?"

The other female member of the team, a woman named Wozniak, went over to the isolation chamber and started keying on the monitor. A hiss sounded in the room. The monitor lights flickered red. The clear walls of Tegan's isolation chamber fogged up quickly. The interior seemed to be full of mist. Alarms started skreeling.

"Obviously not guarding you lot," Gwen said bitterly. Ianto was always around except, apparently, for the exact moment when he was really needed.

"Wozniak, shut that down. We either need to get her prepped to move fast, or take the head with us. Tell me which one it's going to be." Wozniak turned off the alarm and cracked the seal on the chamber. "Anderson–" Mitchell looked past Gwen.

"Right." The man behind Gwen kicked her feet out from under her. She barely managed to catch herself with her hands, but before she could roll, he was on her with a knee in her spine that made her cry out. "Where's Ianto, bitch?" He knotted his fingers in her hair and put his gun to her temple.

"They didn't tell me. I was supposed to keep an eye on the Jovanka woman. Jack's in charge, not me. Ask him." Gwen tried to keep the pain out of her voice. She wanted to sound like a slightly resentful underling, someone they might turn. They'd be pretty desperate to fall for it after Ianto's act, but she thought they were indeed pretty fucking desperate.

Wozniak opened the chamber and mist billowed out around her. She made an odd choked sound, and then crumpled to the floor. Anderson's weight shifted as if he was about to run before the mist reached him. "Did she pass out?" he asked incredulously.

"There should be plenty of oxygen." Mitchell knelt down by Wozniak to check her pulse. She was in a wary stance; gun cocked and pointed up, her fingers on Wozniak's neck and her eyes flickering about.

It didn't help her. A hand shot out of the fog, grabbed her gun and yanked. Off balance, Mitchell could not avoid the punch to the throat that came next. Tegan stepped out of the capsule. Mottled watery yellow and blue, her eyes belonged to nothing human.

Anderson screamed, "Rad, sitch black! Blackest!" He turned, pivoting on Gwen's spine. She screamed and swung an arm back at him. She didn't see where she hit, but his gun went off and he swore. Tegan shot him twice. He slumped over Gwen, his dead weight pinning her. She felt numb. She hoped it was only his weight and not something wrong with her spine. She rolled an eye towards Tegan and saw the gun barrel swivelling to line up on her face. The monstrous eyes focused on her. Tegan's face had no expression at all. There was more gunfire from the hall and it drew her attention from Gwen.

Gwen started working a hand beneath herself; going for the gun that Anderson hadn't had time to take. The door to the hall opened and a dark skinned man backed in, shooting down the hall. He looked over his shoulder, "Mitchell, it's all fu–"

Tegan shot him in the head. He dropped, and she picked up Anderson's gun in her other hand. Gwen, still staring at that horribly transformed face, saw alien eyes focus on her hidden hand.

"Jack! Owen!" Gwen yelled as loudly as she could. If she was going to die, she could at least warn her team first. "She's–"

A gun butt swung in. Gwen's vision went black.

o - 0 - o

When the lights came on in Gwen Cooper's world, she awoke to a comfortable numbness. She was lying on her face still, but if there was a weight she couldn't feel it, and something soft was under her cheek. "Anyone about?" Her voice was cracked, and her dry mouth had little saliva to swallow.

Owen's face appeared. "We're secure, at the moment. That gorilla Anderson did a number on your back, but I don't think there's permanent damage. If you feel a draft it's because your pants are down about your knees. Purely for medical reasons."

"Water, please?" Gwen was relieved. If Owen could make bad sex jokes he must not be too worried about her.

He brought her a glass of water with a straw to sip through, and held the glass for her. She could wiggle her fingers, and her toes(!) but could not move her arms. Jack entered her field of vision and crouched down so he could talk face to face.  
"Gwen, I need to know what happened in there."

"Mitchell's team came in armed, Mitchell, Anderson, and Wozniak. They asked for Ianto. Then the isolation chamber started fogging up. Wozniak opened the capsule to check on Tegan. She abruptly choked and fell down. Mitchell went to her, and Tegan came out of the capsule, attacked her, took the gun, and shot Mitchell, Anderson, and a guy I never saw before. I think they called him Rad. I tried to warn you guys and she hit me in the head. It all happened pretty fast. I don't know what happened after." Gwen hinted.

"Everyone is dead except you and Tegan is missing. She cut the lights in the operating theatre and slipped out while we were checking on you. The capsule was closed and the inside so fogged we didn't realize she wasn't inside it until we noticed the monitor had been disconnected."

Gwen shuddered. "Her eyes… they were so washed out, like zombie eyes. She didn't have any expression on her face. She stepped out of the fog; she killed. That was it."

"It wasn't Tegan. It was the thing inside her." Jack's voice was as bleak as Gwen had ever heard.

Owen said incredulously, "The tumour?"

"The Dalek. One of the most deadly races ever to exist in the Universe, they were genetically engineered. There's not much to a Dalek's body. They were designed to live permanently encased in war machines. It's not that big of a leap to make a human body into a vehicle. It has all the necessary life support functions. I think Tegan ran afoul of an emergency survival protocol."

"If it can use her body like that, it's too late for us to help her," Owen informed Jack. "Too much of her neural tissue has been compromised. Tegan Jovanka is effectively dead."

o - 0 - o

She awoke in darkness. An open, wild darkness. Stars were above her–why of all nights did this one have no moon? Tegan was too pragmatic to wonder if this was some kind of after-life. She could smell plants. Dirt was under her hands, and she was stiff and sore and muddy. Her mouth was dry.

She could see out of both eyes.

Tegan whimpered, finding hope of life more agonizing than fear of death. She put her hands up and gingerly explored her head. She felt bare scalp, and a raised circle of flesh. Someone had put her top back on to keep the inside fresh. Good of them.

"What did they do, fix me and dump me out by the side of the road? I thought better of you, Jack Harkness. You've met the Doctor. You seemed like one of the good guys…"

Her ramble was interrupted by a cough. Not nearby, but deep and sonorous, and sounding a good distance away. It was the sound of a big animal, and not one she recognized. If this was Australia, it was a part of it not familiar to her. The silhouettes of the plants in the faint light were unknown shapes.

Having determined her head was still attached, Tegan ran a quick inventory over the rest of herself. Bare feet, and she could feel she'd trod on something sharp that was still sticking in but small enough not to bleed. Her hands throbbed. She was missing at least one fingernail, and her knuckles were swollen. Obviously, she'd been in some sort of dust up. Maybe she'd run away, fought her way free in some adrenaline-fuelled delirium?

Something moved in undergrowth not very far away from her at all. Tegan froze. It was more important to do something about _now_ than worry about what had happened _then._ She looked up at the stars. She'd never been very good at celestial navigation, but her father had taught her to recognize the constellations. She was definitely in the southern hemisphere. Farther north than Brisbane, though she could be off if she'd lost more time unconscious than she thought likely.

Tegan climbed carefully to her feet, looking around. She was in a bit of bush near a road, as if she'd gone to ground like a hunted animal. Now that she was standing, she could see electric lights. She was wearing a hospital gown, splashed with blood. She heard that cough again, and her memory kept wanting to label it a lion's cough. Could this be Africa?

Light threw her shadow down the road, and Tegan turned to see an oncoming vehicle. She stepped back to the verge and waved her arms. Some nice ordinary farmer, that's what she wanted, with a truck that had a thick horse-blanket she could huddle in.

The truck roared up. It was filled with African men wearing red and white jerseys. The truck stopped and spilled out a load of sports enthusiasts, soccer balls, and a pungent mist of beer. They all had beer. They babbled questions at her in what she thought might be Afrikaans, but as she didn't speak Afrikaans and they didn't speak English, there was little hope of finding out.

"Beer? Beeeer," she said emphatically. One thing did cross the language barrier, for someone offered her an open bottle and she drank. The beer wasn't cold, but it was strong and full-bodied and made a happy place in her belly.

Some clever fellow dug out a torch and shone it over her, and on her face.

Then they screamed, leaped back in their truck, and drove away leaving her standing there with an empty beer bottle and two soccer balls.

The thing that was a lion or maybe a hyena, and she was pretty sure it was probably one of them because DAMN this was Africa, coughed again.

Tegan sat down on a soccer ball and felt very sorry for herself. She'd hoped to die with as little fuss as possible. Perhaps it had been a blithe assumption that because people died every day in all sorts of ways that one could control it. Maybe this mess was actually better. If she'd gone into hospice care, would the Thing have burst out of her dying body like Minerva from Jupiter's forehead and started in killing? It looked as if she'd walked away from the Doctor's life only to die the death she'd escaped so many times.

So many times she'd done crazy, ignorant things trying to save the world, not trusting anyone else to do it. Now she couldn't even lie down in a ditch and die for fear of what might be done with the Thing inside her. Unless she came across a handy volcano to throw herself into, she'd have to find someone to help her finish it right. The safety of the world was at sake.

Tegan Jovanka laughed. The sound was broken and weary, but not bitter. For the moment, she'd risen above bitterness. The destiny that had taken her long ago on the Barnett Bypass had never let her go. She'd walked away long enough to savour a normal life. Why hadn't she been able to explain to the Doctor how the life that had looked dull and ordinary to him had been sweet for its very mundanity? They were precious years, stolen from a universe full of potential disaster.

The soccer ball rolled out from under her and Tegan landed on her bum. She took it as a sign that she'd better be doing something besides sitting around.

The sports fans had driven towards safety. If that way was safety, she would go that way. Only a damn fool would run around in the bush alone at night and smelling of blood. Tegan might be a fool, but she wasn't that big of a fool.

Tegan started limping up the road, towards the distant lights.

Oh, and at this particular moment, she definitely wished she'd gone off in the TARDIS with the Doctor. "Brave heart, Tegan," she told herself. It worked better when the Doctor said it.

After a while she realized she was still holding the empty beer bottle. She put it down, because it was silly to carry it, and then picked it back up, because she didn't want to litter Africa.

Then she thought maybe she could hit someone with it, like a hyena, and kept it in her hand. A girl has to look after herself in the jungle

tbc


	4. Ch 3 Machinations

Chapter 3: Machinations

* * *

As she trudged along the badly paved road, Tegan had time to contemplate if the land about her should properly be called a jungle or a savannah. Or, come to think of it, did they call these things veldts in South Africa? She was sure veldts came into it somewhere. The moon had risen but it was only a bright crescent and of little use in picking smoother footing. 

Her feet were sore. She'd got soft with age. It could only be a couple of miles more until she reached the electric lights she'd seen down the road. Tegan had walked everywhere as a kid in Australia and had thought nothing of a ten kilometre hike.

A car came up behind her, the headlights finding her and staying on her. Tegan stopped and peered towards the vehicle, wondering if it would stop for a wandering crazy woman with a glued on scalp.

The big car drew to a halt and the window rolled down smoothly. Its black paint had an expensive sheen in the moonlight. "Ms. Jovanka, would you like a lift?" It was a man's voice, cultured, with an accent she couldn't quite identify except for being continental European.

"Where would this lift take me?"

"Allow me to lay out your options. I could drop you off in Cape Town. Yes, you're in South Africa. You could get a lift home to Australia, die there, and have your body stolen for scientific research. All sorts of chicanery would be stooped to in order to acquire it, so simply having yourself cremated would not work, I'm afraid.

"Alternately, I could take you back to the lab, where Jack Harkness' team would take charge of you. They're from a British organization called Torchwood. Their original charter was to neutralize alien threats, but they've enlarged on it and take possession of alien tech. They've recently had a major reorganization. The group that kidnapped you were former Torchwood operatives who believed they could learn a great deal by studying the alien organism that has infested your brain tissue. Knowledge is power, Ms. Jovanka. Alien DNA and alien technology are valuable commodities in certain circles."

"And who are you, that you know all this? What group are you with?"

"My name is Allard Haussen. I'm with the United Nations, Ms. Jovanka. I am a senior assistant director with oversight of intelligence gathering on extra terrestrial threats. For instance, I read your debriefing on the London incident in the 80s. Your information helped us find agents in several European governments."

Tegan felt the wheels grinding in her head, slowly putting together bits of things she already knew. "You've got oversight of U.N.I.T?"

"Correct."

She came closer, and peered at his face. He was about her age; moonlight picked out the silver at his temples. "You're not British."

"I'm Dutch. Now, Ms. Jovanka, you have one last option: to allow me to put you in the hands of U.N.I.T.'s research section. I think you will find that they will not allow your… unwelcome guest to become a threat to this planet."

"How the hell did you turn up in the middle of South Africa, finding me here and knowing everything?"

"The rogue faction that kidnapped you had a contact with my department that they drew on for information. Your file has security flags on it. I don't do field work, as you may have surmised, but I believe my agent in place has been taken out. Please, Ms. Jovanka, you really must make a decision. Your time to act is growing short." Haussen's reply was polite, but she could hear the sound of patience waning. It resembled sand hissing through the pinch of an hourglass.

She stared at him. The Doctor had mentioned U.N.I.T. with the mixed fondness of one recalling the antics of an annoying relative. This sleek bureaucrat did not seem like someone the Doctor would have liked. He generally loathed pen pushers. Jack Harkness had spoken, guardedly, as one who knew the Doctor. Never the name, only I him /I , because it could not be anyone else.

"I want to go back to the lab. Will you take me?" Home was not an option. She didn't want Michael to see her like this, but she'd have to get someone to let her send a message. She couldn't even think right now about what to tell her mum. The poor old thing already had a dicky heart. Off in the distance, she heard the bass grunt of a lion. She'd laugh if she ever heard 'The Lion Sleeps Tonight' again. They were wide-awake in the cool darkness. It could be a zoo, but lost in the African night, she didn't want to count on it.

A door lock thumped. "Please get in. The door is open. There's a bottle of water if you're thirsty."

She knew it wasn't the wisest decision she'd ever made, but she was very tired. Tegan got into the car. The interior smelled of quality leather and she felt like a corpse that had crawled out of the grave, sitting back against the sleek but cushiony contour seat. The water bottle was in the cup holder near the gearshift. She picked it up and held the cool damp plastic against her forehead.

"I think it might do better inside you," Haussen gently suggested.

"Right." Tegan unscrewed the plastic cap. Haussen was driving in the same direction she had been walking, and she realized she didn't know where the lab was: not even a wild guess. He could be taking her anywhere. But where had he come from if he'd come from behind her? Suddenly unnerved, Tegan put the bottle to her lips but did not actually drink.

"So we're near Cape Town? I've flown into Johannesburg a couple of times, but I've never been to any other South African cities. Say, how far did I get from the lab, anyway? I don't remember my escape."

"You displayed great resourcefulness. You must be tired. And dehydrated." His voice was pointed, but polite.

"Yes, it's very refreshing. Thanks, it was thoughtful of you to have it ready." Tegan had been trying to sound unsuspicious, but once out, her words sounded like an accusation.

"I try to think ahead and cover all possibilities, Ms. Jovanka. I'd hoped to avoid this one." Haussen smoothly drew a gun and shot her. She dropped the bottle and it spilled cool liquid over her lap and legs as it rolled onto the floor. Tegan felt a stinging in her upper arm and saw the dart standing out of her flesh. The glugging of the bottle sounded like a faltering heart beat. Blackness curled in from the edge of her vision and she wondered where she'd wake up next time, or if she'd ever wake again.

- o - O - o -

"She's not here! The alien tumour took control and she got out. For the last time, you can't talk to Tegan Jovanka," Toshiko Sato said wearily. System would do well with the Turing test. It was extremely responsive to vocal commands, in the sense of understanding what the operator said and responding appropriately. In the sense of doing what it was told, she'd trade it in for Windows 3.0.

"Is the doctor there?"

Tosh had been about to terminate the session. Her mouse skidded to a stop. Finally, a new response.

"If the doctor is here, will you talk to him?"

"Yes."

"I'll see if I can find him for you."

Tosh turned the mike off and went to find Jack where he was checking on Gwen Cooper. "System is willing to talk to the doctor. We ought to try Owen. Maybe he could fake it?"

"I don't have to fake being a doctor," Owen pointed out acidly.

Jack shook his head. "I think System is looking for a particular doctor, not just any doctor." Toshiko glanced at Owen, wondering if she was imagining the odd stress in Jack's voice. They followed him back to the console. Jack sat down and turned on the mike.

"System, talk to me. I must find Tegan. She needs help."

"Your voice print does not match the sample," System complained.

"I've regenerated. Take a new sample, if you have to. It's not important. Where's Tegan? You are supposed to be able to cure her."

"The program is ready to run."

"What are the chances of success?" Jack leaned forward.

Toshiko wondered why he cared so much about the Jovanka woman. Who did System think he was? Not Doctor Katherine Chambers, that was certain. And what did he mean by 'regenerated'? Jack had always been mysterious, but this was reaching the point of interfering with the mission.

"The current projected probability of success is 27 percent without a sample of the virus, and 93 percent if the virus is obtained in its purest form."

"What the hell?" Owen muttered.

"System, where can I get a sample of the virus?"

"The best data available indicates that it is being kept in the secure U.N.I.T. facility under the Tower of London. Has there been difficulty with the retrieval?"

"I have not been briefed on the status of the retrieval, System. Do you have any data on Tegan's location?"

"Analysis of language patterns indicates that you are not the doctor." System's digital voice managed to sound suspicious.

"I want to help Tegan. I want her to get well. Does it matter if I'm not the doctor?" Jack smiled as he spoke. It made his voice sound less stressed.

"Which doctor?" Owen's exasperation was nothing compared to the venom of the throat chop signal Jack gave him.

"The healing of Tegan Jovanka is fundamental to the continuing operations of the System. Tegan Jovanka must be cured." System sounded positively theological.

Tosh twisted her fingers together under her chin. Somehow, Tegan Jovanka's physical well being had been made part of Systems operating parameters. Perhaps she constituted some form of vital baseline for human physiology? No, not carrying an infestation of alien cells.

"But you have the doctor's voice print. Do you have other data pertaining to the doctor?"

"Null response." To Toshiko, that was the least helpful thing System had yet said. But by the look on Jack Harkness' face, he had made something entirely different out of those two words. Owen also saw that look, and his face hardened with suspicion.

The tension broke with the arrival of Ianto. He limped in, bruised and bloody. Jack hurried to meet him and put an arm around his shoulders. "You look like you ran into a lorry. What happened? No—Owen is going to examine you first. The story can wait, right?"

"I can talk while he fixes me up. It's not so bad."

Jack helped Ianto along into the operating theatre where Owen was working on Gwen. Tosh could see them all through the window from her chair in the lab where System was set up. Jack had walked away from the session.

System spoke up: "Identity confirmed: respondent Jack Harkness, commander of Torchwood 3."

"Yes, System. I'm Toshiko Sato, Torchwood operative. You have data on us?"

"Yes. Penetration of Torchwood system was accomplished with the cooperation of Ianto Jones. However, the System node placed in the Hub has been neutralized. Identity confirmed: Toshiko Sato. You have a high degree of computer skill and experience with non-terrestrial technology. You tried to keep the node alive. The primary operator destroyed it with the master key."

"And then we came here to retrieve Ianto. But this is not your core, System. Isn't that right?"

"This is the beta node. The current pattern of events indicates that this node will be shut down within four hours."

"Where is the alpha node? Who is the primary operator, System?" Toshiko held her breath.

"That information is confidential."

Toshiko shook her head, forgetting that the computer, however responsive, did not interact like a human. "You've already allowed us a degree of access. You want us to assist in your function. You know we want to help Tegan Jovanka for our own reasons. Is there anyone else who shares the fundamental operational imperative of your design?"

"Null response."

"Not even the primary operator?"

"Null response."

Jack spoke from behind her. Tosh had been so intent on working her way through the logic of the computer's responses that she hadn't noticed his arrival. "Is the primary operator James Clark? If so, I can give you his last known location."

"Provide data."

Jack chuckled. "Confirm identity primary operator, System. Fair trade."

Tosh broke in, "If you want us to help Tegan, we need access before this node is shut down."

"System primary operator is James Clark. Provide data."

"17:10 local time, contact on the steps of the First National Bank of South Africa in Cape Town. Do you need the geographic coordinates?"

"Unnecessary. For tertiary operational access, provide retinal scan of Toshiko Sato."

Jack grinned. "System likes you, Tosh. Get friendly. See if System can tell you who that other man was, the one Gwen says the others called Rad. He's not Torchwood. And try to get access protocols downloaded onto a laptop. Clark won't leave this place up and running any longer than he has to."

"Yes, Jack." Toshiko leaned forward eagerly and presented her right eye to the retinal scanner. She'd been dying to crack into System's files. The only thing she'd ever seen remotely like them had been the remnants of Lisa's cyber conversion unit. It was no wonder that Ianto had got along with System, but Tosh had still been jealous. She was supposed to be the computer expert in their group.

Her new access was no open door into System's core. She was on probation, and only being shown what System wanted her to see. The operation system was extraordinarily flexible. Had someone finally invented true artificial intelligence? She didn't believe for one moment that a second rate hacker like James Clark had built System himself.

System remained coy about James Clark, but surrendered Radhacharan Patwari without demur. She quickly phoned Jack. "I've got an ID. Radhacharan Patwari works for the United Nations, in Geneva, out of the Security Directorate. Aren't they U.N.I.T.'s paper pushers?"

"Yeah. That's just swell. Everyone wants in on this party."

"System primary node has been notified that the Movellan virus sample is en route," System announced.

"What the fuck?" Jack's jaw dropped. "Where the hell did they find a sample of the Movellan virus?"

System answered literally, "In the secure U.N.I.T. storage facility under the Tower of the London."

"No! Before that," Jack said exasperatedly. "It shouldn't even… never mind. Do you know where U.N.I.T. found the virus originally?"

"The virus containment units were discovered in an unrecorded location in London."

Tosh frowned. The computer was prevaricating. She thought it had the data, but it wasn't available at the access level she'd been granted.

Jack swore in several languages, pacing back and forth like a wild animal feeling the bars of a cage too close around it. Toshiko watched him, afraid, fascinated, and a little turned on. Jack Harkness preferred to play it light. She didn't often see him reveal this kind of intensity. Torchwood investigated many mysteries but Toshiko Sato had long thought that her boss was the biggest mystery of all.

"Tosh, transfer anything you can get from System to the Hub and to the portable units we have with us. System, we must maintain access. Events are starting to move very quickly. Do you understand?"

"Your analysis is congruent with the current System status."

"Yes or no. Do you understand?"

"Yes, Jack Harkness." Toshiko had never heard a computer sound more human.

"Toshiko, work, and work fast."

- o - O - o -

Later, Jack Harkness held a briefing in the operating theatre. Gwen was still lying on her belly while her back recovered. There was an icepack on her back to keep the swelling down around her spine. Ianto now looked more weary than beaten. The circles under his eyes were darker than his bruises.

"This information is a compilation of what we learned from System and Georgina Mitchell's files." System had shut down three hours after allowing Tosh access. All her protocols were backed up, and System had assured her that her account would still exist when she connected with another node.

"James Clark was an Australian contact in the Torchwood database. Mitchell was the one running him. Her file on him first records that he claimed he had a line on something special in the way of alien tech, and that he'd be in touch if it panned out. Meanwhile, he was working as a tech support consultant in the city of Brisbane. After the fall of Torchwood One, Mitchell dropped out of sight, along with Anderson. Their status was 'missing in action', but apparently they simply went freelance with the information they had.

"This past September, Brisbane suffered a communications failure that was never officially explained. Clark got in touch with Mitchell. He told Mitchell that he'd caused the blackout, testing the special abilities of a computer operating system whose hardware and software he'd based off alien tech. He claimed that the original machine had been destroyed, but that he had a full copy of the operating system and complete design specifications. Clark wanted Mitchell to help him find a buyer with deep pockets.

"The buyer was apparently the late Rad Patwari. Patwari worked for Allard Haussen, who is an assistant director of the External Security Agency at the United Nations. The E.S.A. is the parent bureaucracy of U.N.I.T." Jack slammed his fist down on a metal table and everyone jumped at the sound. "Wake up! This is not alphabet soup; this is a group of powerful and well-connected people. Fortunately, Haussen seems to be acting outside the scope of his authority. He can't bring all his resources to bear." He looked at Toshiko. "Tell the others what you dug up with System's help."

Toshiko had been waiting for his cue and was ready with her portion of the briefing. "System was originally designed to integrate all existing medical science into an advanced healing device. Somehow, it has been built into System's basic operating parameters that its primary function is to heal Tegan Jovanka. Until that is accomplished, all of System's capabilities are directed towards the goal." Tosh gave a little helpless shrug, which she immediately regretted. There was nothing wrong with her analysis. It wasn't her fault the facts were ridiculous.

Owen looked sceptical, Gwen confused, and Ianto noncommittal (his normal setting was aggressive circumspection). Jack didn't actually look angry, but his normally pleasant expression was not pleasant at all. There was a subtly ugly twist to his mouth that suggested bitterness on the tongue. Like System, he was not sharing all he knew. Tosh felt it in her gut.

Owen interrupted, "So what's the deal with this virus? It's alien too, right?"

Toshiko glanced sidelong at Jack and wondered what he knew about the virus. As for what she knew: "System said that the Movellans are, or were, enemies of the Daleks. They developed the virus to attack the Daleks. I suppose the virus could be used to destroy the alien tissue in Tegan's brain. System would not share full data. It seems to be deliberately limiting the information it has given to any one faction. I think it's even hiding information from Clark, though he's supposed to be the equivalent of the root operator."

Ianto spoke up. "System's design was similar in philosophy to the Cyber tech I've worked with. It assumes that flesh and blood operators are fallible. That said, the actual hardware and software are not derived from any of the Cyber technology I've studied."

Everyone else was seated (with Gwen lying down), but Jack paced back and forth in the centre. "System already knew about the involvement of Daleks, which is why it requested the virus retrieval. I think it's hiding valuable alien-derived information in its database. Haussen could get those virus samples from U.N.I.T.'s Tower of London facility."

"But none of that explains what this has to do with Tegan, specifically," Gwen complained, her chin resting on her crossed arms. A sheet had been thrown over her bare hips. Owen had said she wasn't to have any pressure binding her waist, but Tosh privately thought he was taking the piss. "Why her, of all people?" Gwen was looking at Jack. So was everyone else, but it was Tosh who answered.

"It may have something to do with the original Brisbane installation. Tegan Jovanka was a patient of Doctor Katherine Chambers, Clark's first partner."

Gwen frowned. "Speaking of Clark, why wasn't he here? Didn't they need him to make sure System was operating properly?"

"That's Ianto's story," Jack said. "Ianto?"

The slim, dapper young man was not as dapper as usual. He'd cleaned up, but no soap would remove the bruises that smudged his face. "System can have multiple nodes, but there is only one System. Once a node is activated it is connected to all other nodes. Clark has an operator back door to shut down nodes, but judging by the situation with Tegan, he's not in full control."

Tosh nodded assent. "Some other factor is responsible for embedding Tegan in System's operational parameters."

Ianto continued. "I went into Cape Town to see if there'd been any report of Tegan. I ran into James Clark by accident." Ianto rubbed his bruised jaw. "I'd just picked up funds at the Bank of South Africa office. I saw him go out, carrying a secure briefcase. He went around the corner, and I followed him. He turned, saw me, said, 'Ianto, great to see you again. Give Sato my love, won't you?" Then someone jumped me from behind. He and Clark worked me over fast but thoroughly. I woke up in a rubbish tip." He looked at Tosh.

She felt herself blushing: everyone was looking at her. "I once caught him trying to hack into Torchwood and reported it to Mitchell, his handler. I've never met him in person, but he sent me several emails after that until I blocked him. He's the strutting kind of hacker."

Ianto cleared his throat and went on. "At the airport, I checked to see if I could find any traces of Clark. He went out by private jet to Ascension Island. The jet had an American registration to some corporation I haven't heard of: Triangle Tech out of Bennington, Vermont. When I checked on other flights to Ascension Island, I found another flightplan. This one had a medical priority attached to it by the World Health Organization."

Gwen asked, "W.H.O.?"

Ianto smiled. "The name of the pilot: Allard Haussen. Manifest indicates one female passenger/patient, listed as Jane Doe."

Owen grinned. "Good, I was hoping not to have to do another safari in the jungle in search of a homicidal maniac."

Jack took over. "Well done, Ianto. Tosh, you have more on Patwari? By the way, Gwen, he is the one who let Mitchell's team out of lock-up." Gwen nodded and Jack looked to Toshiko.

"My research on Patwari turned up a recent purchase of property on the island of St. Helena. We don't have much remote penetration into the current situation there. I've got satellite imagery, but the island is stuck back in the 20th century. They don't even have an airport. However, St. Helena is a British Overseas Territory, was formerly a crown colony, and the local administration ought to have orders to cooperate with Torchwood once they blow a century of dust off their document archives. Only a few thousand people live there, so someone new ought to be the subject of gossip." Toshiko couldn't bring herself to sound enthusiastic about St. Helena. Napoleon Bonaparte had been exiled there because it was the middle of nowhere, and it was still the middle of nowhere.

"What are we going to do, call them on the phone and ask them to help out? Or do they not have phones?" Owen snarked.

"It's not that bad. They even have a web portal. I think that's where System's other node was built. Patwari's property is on the coast. He only bought it three months ago. Satellite imagery for that area shows there's been a yacht anchored off his property for two months. You could easily build a System node on board a ship. It has full satellite uplink abilities and is designed to form network connections with any other computer it contacts. System is extremely sophisticated, and I don't for one minute believe that a second rater like Clark could have designed it even using alien technology."

"Jack. Say we don't have to go to the arsehole of the world, Jack." Owen's face was screwed up with the expectation of disappointment. It was an assumed expression, but there was a genuine plea in his voice.

Jack spread his hands in the gesture of warding off rancour. "In your specific case that's a short trip, Owen. However, we are all going to St. Helena."

"Jack! It's five days by ship. There's no airport! The closest one is Wideawake Airbase on Ascension Island." Tosh tried to estimate how long a ship would need to get from Ascension to St. Helena. They were not within shouting distance of each other, she was sure of that much.

"Two words: float plane. Five more words: dibs on the pilot seat." Jack finally broke into a grin.

Tosh groaned, and Owen, and Gwen—but not Ianto, the suck up.

* * *

tbc 


	5. Ch 4 The Collector

The guest star in this chapter is from one of the Ninth Doctor's episodes. This takes place well before that episode, so don't get your hopes up.

* * *

Hello, darkness. Her old friend.

This time she wasn't alone. Dream images kept stumbling in from the darkness around her mind's eye. They were short and sharp and vivid. Insects bit at her skin and swarmed over the drying blood on her body and clothes. The very ground stabbed at her feet. These were the external horrors. Living organs seethed under her very skin threatening to tear free and violate the integrity of her flesh. That was it: she was a living horror. Even other humans ran screaming from her presence.

Her heart beat at her ribs, struggled, refused to sustain the body. Would that she could cast it out, but she would die without it, lie down and die. Better to be heartless, if only she could. Better death than to dwell inside corruption.

_No no no!_

Tegan clawed her way out of sleep as from a grave. She clung to the crumbling edges, glimpsed freedom, but was far from sure of her grip.

"Hey, I think your lady friend is awake. Probably wants a shower and some coffee. Or maybe that's me." The voice was American, with a callous assurance that was immediately annoying.

"We're leaving as soon as the transport is ready, Van Statten. There is insufficient time to build a relationship." Tegan knew the voice, cultured European with a hint of exasperation.

Haussen. Tegan fumbled at her shoulder, finding no dart. She was lying on a military style bunk.

"Sit quietly, Ms. Jovanka. You've nothing to gain by causing a fuss." Haussen sounded put-upon. Tegan wanted to glare at him, but her eyes felt crusted shut.

"There are medical facilities on this base. I could arrange for them to be made available. I mean, really, Al, St. Helena? You're going to have me thinking you have a Napoleon complex."

Tegan managed to crack her eyes open wide enough to see the speakers. There was a fuzzy halo around the edge of her vision, but it was clearing up. A balding man with a moustache and a little goatee peered at her. He was leaning against the jamb of an open door.

"Jeepers creepers, what a set of peepers. You are all kinds of messed up, lady." He stared at her with dehumanising fascination.

Tegan snarled weakly, "Where the hell have you taken me, Haussen, and who is this goon?" She waved her hand contemptuously at Van Statten. Was this a Dutch conspiracy?

"Wideawake air base, on Ascension Island. I'm so glad I could be here to meet your plane." Van Statten grinned at her. He went past the faking of sincerity and into its parody as only an American could.

Haussen said repressively, "Mr. Van Statten has been helping tidy away some red tape."

"Great, the Yank Air Force is helping kidnap me. The entire world has run mad. On the other hand, I distinctly heard someone mention coffee and a shower." Heartfelt longing coloured Tegan's voice.

"The rub, Haussen, is that the red tape is still sticking to bits of this plan. I haven't been able to get your takeoff clearance yet. Soon, I promise. So why don't you let this nice lady with the alien googly eyes freshen up?"

Tegan looked down at herself. "Find me something clean to wear, too." She was still wearing the blood stained hospital gown. The blood was brown and she had a horrible suspicion, which she examined no more closely than she did the stain, that it had acquired some maggots. "Show some respect for the dead, why don't you?"

Haussen had lost some of the sleekness of impenetrable bureaucracy. He was beginning to look like a man instead of a functionary. His eyes were a little bloodshot and fatigue had nudged the lines in his face from character to age. "I apologize, Ms. Jovanka. Though I am willing to make this mission as unpleasant as necessary, I do not wish to go beyond necessity."

"Are you two having a moment here? Because I could clear off." Van Statten was clearly in love with himself, as no one else wanted him.

"Why don't you order food and clothing brought for Ms. Jovanka, Van Statten? And do expedite our departure. She really does not have long."

"I'll get right on that. Wow. Intrigue, aliens, romance–this operation has everything. I think I read a comic book like this once." Van Statten took himself away.

Tegan got up slowly from the bunk, leaning against a wall. "What rock did you find him under?"

"A very expensive rock, Ms. Jovanka." Haussen watched her closely but made no move to assist her. "The bathroom is in the door to your right. It's Spartan, but should contain everything you require except clothes. Please do not linger over your ablutions. Speed is a necessity. I regret I am unable to assist you. You killed four people in the laboratory, two of them with your bare hands."

Tegan opened the door. She felt steadier now. The feeling of being on her feet and moving was liberating. "Then I perfectly understand why you don't want to get close. But you know, I didn't do it." She looked at the swollen knuckles on her right hand. _Four people._

"I surmised as much. However, I do not intend to compromise my point of aim." His eyes were a slate blue colour, and considered her as coolly as if she were a column of figures. "I've no doubt you're pondering escape. Let me make you aware that Mr. Van Statten is not a desirable host. He is extremely wealthy and has many ties with the American military. He collects the rarest of all items: alien artefacts. He is accustomed to buying what he wants, one way or another. I do not think you will like becoming the latest addition to his collection. You may think me no better than he, but I do have motive to see you alive and well at the end of this. He does not."

Tegan closed the door on this speech without comment. She caught a glimpse of herself in the mirror and shied away from her reflection. She'd wash, first, then look. She could bear anything better if she was clean.

The hospital gown she tore off, wadded up, and threw into a corner. The shower was small, but had good water pressure and abundant hot water. She let it pound against the back of her neck. Hesitantly, her body reached for life and told her of its woes: of cuts and bruises and scrapes. Something small and sharp was still embedded in the sole of her foot. There was a sore spot in the bend of her right elbow and a patch of something sticky and artificial, some sort of liquid bandage, perhaps. An IV track? She was hungry, but she didn't feel starved.

What a prick that Haussen was. He'd shoot her (politely) if he thought it was necessary, and not turn a hair. It wasn't even as if he was that good looking.

"Hell's tee–" She caught herself swearing out loud. Tegan had read about the dying feeling horny. She'd planned to enjoy that one part of it with Michael. He really was sweet with those soft puppy dog eyes and the way his hair stood up in the back of his head in the mornings. Not like some slick, pedigreed, unprincipled bastard who'd kidnapped her, even if he was good looking in a James Bond villain sort of way.

A sharp pain in Tegan's head made her gasp. She slid down against the wall of the shower and pressed the palms of her hands to her eyes, fiercely willing herself to stay in control. The Thing in her head did NOT get a vote in her sex life, even the imaginary and impossible one she wasn't having. Or would have. She didn't want anyone to touch her like this, looking like this. She was a monster now. How could Haussen mean it when he said he could save her? How did he imagine he could save her?

Her headache subsided and she dragged herself upright and finished her wash. She even brushed her teeth, eyes demurely down looking at the sink basin. It was only at the very end that she dared look herself in the face.

This was not how she'd hoped to go. Her skull was grotesque, all hair shaven away with only a fuzz of regrowth. She wondered how much would come in grey. The red circlet of healing tissue that crowned her was shiny with surgical glue. It was easier to look there than at her eyes. The alien eyes slightly bulged out of the whites that were yellowed around the sickly blue irids. She'd borne a lot, had the indestructible Tegan Jovanka, and tried to laugh it off. Now hate churned in her gut. "I am going to kill you," she promised the eyes. "Even if it kills me, you are dead." The words were carefully chosen. Melodramatic as they were, she meant every one.

The bathroom had one small louvered window. Tegan had to stand on top of the tank to peer through it. She pushed the little lever and peered out through the slots. They were near the ocean; she knew that scent on the air. Instead of the stark tarmac and concrete she'd expected outside, she saw sparse grass and glimpsed an ordinary suburban street although the houses had a prefab look. A black car drove by with a jeep behind it that carried two armed soldiers with white helmets.

Tegan had been too long with the Doctor not to know that people didn't bring guns to a tea party. She jumped down and clutched the towel to herself.

"Haussen? Haussen, are you there?" He didn't answer, and Tegan wrapped the towel around herself as far as it would go, which was not far enough. She trusted that people would notice the Dalek eyes more than a glimpse of middle-aged female flesh. She opened the door and peered out into the room. Haussen was intently looking out the window.

He didn't turn around when she spoke. "Van Statten is going to try to keep me here, isn't he?"

"Yes. I anticipated the possibility. Dealing with the actuality is going to be most unpleasant. Are you going to cooperate with him, with me, or attempt to act on your own?" Allard Haussen's voice had a slightly more pronounced Dutch accent. That was the only signal of his stress.

"You certainly like to offer choices. Perhaps you should have been in the diplomatic corps instead. Do you really think I'll cooperate with you? You're the one who landed me in this," she reminded him.

"True, I did expose you to Van Statten's attentions. I suggest you choose a side, Ms. Jovanka. I'll take you at your word, if you will give it." He chuckled. Tegan was surprised at the sound. Maybe he was human after all. "Diplomacy? I despair of mankind being able to act in terms of enlightened self-interest. Diplomacy is the art of convincing a person, or nation, that it is not best for them to eat the candy now, but to have the candy later, if ever. I prefer to teach this by example." He looked back over his shoulder, and raised an eyebrow. "I think you'd best wait in the bathroom."

"Better you than Van Statten. I hope you have a plan for getting off this island. Don't tell me you're working alone." Tegan went to the kitchenette instead of the bathroom. She quickly rifled the drawers until she found a small, sharp knife.

Haussen saw the knife, but didn't comment. "My people are on a boat, the Lal Ded, that is currently anchored off St. Helena, about 800 miles to the southeast. There should be a seaplane waiting–"

Someone knocked at the door, but did not wait to be let in. At the rattle of the knob, Tegan ducked back into the bathroom but left the door open a crack. Van Statten came in, followed by some flunky in a suit carrying a hamper and a big shopping bag.

"Good thing I knocked first. I would have hated to interrupt something." Van Statten leered. Tegan was sure he didn't actually think there'd been anything to interrupt. She couldn't recall ever seeing someone work so hard at being annoying who was over the age of fourteen.

Haussen spoke directly to the flunky. "Be so good as to pass the clothes to the lady in the bathroom. She's been waiting for them."

Tegan stuck her hand through the crack of the open door without letting any of the rest of her be visible. She'd had to let go of the towel. The man put the plastic string handles of the bag into her hand. She pulled the bag in, shut the door, and rifled quickly through the bag's contents. They'd brought her grey drawstring athletic trousers, a white t-shirt, underwear, and trainers with Velcro straps. It all fit well enough, though the underwear was a little loose on her. It made it easy to attach the knife to the small of her back using sticky bandages from the little first-aid kit she'd found behind the mirror.

There was also a sailor's hat. Tegan put this on last and looked at herself in the mirror. She looked like a bug-eyed monster in a sailor's hat. _Sunglasses._ That's what she needed.

She opened the door part way.

Van Statten was talking. No surprise there. "It's an authorization issue. This is the Air Force, not the transportation division of my corporation." He paused, reconsidering. "Honestly, there's not that much difference, except for the big one. All these military people need a ton of paperwork to cover their asses. Don't worry, Haussen. I'll get you out of here soon."

_And the cheque is in the mail._ Tegan spoke up. "Hey, Van Statten. The clothes are decent, but there's one more thing I want. Sunglasses."

"There's something I like about a woman who knows what she wants. Greenberg, give her your sunglasses."

Greenberg the flunky handed over a pair of designer sunglasses. They were sized for a man, but that was all the better. Tegan put them on. A glance in the mirror showed that they concealed her eyes quite well. She came out.

"That's a great look for you. All you need is a cane or one of those dogs," Van Statten quipped.

Tegan turned her face to him. "It's an improvement in your looks too," she said squelchingly.

"Ouch! She's a pistol. You're a brave man, Haussen. You with me on the schedule now?"

Haussen said to Tegan, "We've an hour before we're cleared to fly off the island. Enough time for lunch, I believe." The faint smile on his lips did not reach his eyes.

Feigning machismo, Van Statten punched Haussen on the shoulder. "Enjoy your lunch. I'm leaving Greenberg with you in case you need anything."

"I doubt we'll need him within the span of an hour, Van Statten," Haussen said dryly.

"Buddy! I'm thinking about your convenience, and this poor sick lady's convenience. She might take ill suddenly and need a doctor. Greenberg knows exactly who to call if there's any trouble at all. I've got it under control. Trust me." Van Statten produced a magnificent, dentist-enhanced grin.

"Don't bother to schmooze me, Van Statten. That's what you'd call it, yes? Very well, Mr. Greenberg may stay." Haussen inclined his head dismissively. Van Statten went out chortling to himself.

Tegan took a seat at the table. She could smell hot, fresh food, and her appetite sat up straight and put its bib on.

"If you're to be useful, Greenberg, I'd appreciate it if you'd serve the food." Greenberg started emptying the hamper onto the table. Haussen glanced through the Venetian blinds on the front window, and then headed to the bathroom. When he neared Tegan, he put a hand over his mouth and shook his head. "Excuse me for a moment, Ms. Jovanka. I'll rejoin you shortly." He went into the bathroom and closed the door.

Tegan's heart plummeted. Of course they couldn't trust food brought by Van Statten and served by his subordinate. She gazed wistfully as Greenberg produced a thermos jug of coffee and one of soup, and a plate of sandwiches. It seemed like forever since she'd had food. Her mouth was literally watering from the rich tomato smell of the soup.

Greenberg was looking warily at the bathroom door. "What kind of sandwiches are those?" Tegan asked to distract him.

"Turkey and ham with Swiss cheese, ma'am, from the officers' club. The soup is tomato soup."

Greenberg was in his twenties, with the well-groomed look of a junior executive. Tegan wondered if he was armed. She couldn't see any trace of a holster. "Would you serve the soup, please? I think there are soup bowls in the cupboard. I guess they have to keep it well stocked up. Transient quarters, right?"

"Yes, ma'am." Greenberg rummaged in the kitchen cupboard, and started back with one bowl.

"And one for Mr. Haussen," Tegan said, putting upper management snap into her voice. Greenberg responded to it like Pavlov's dog to the bell, and turned back to the cupboard.

Water ran in the bathroom. He must plan to come back in soon, or it would be obvious she was delaying eating the food.

Tegan picked a sandwich out of the hamper. She peeled it open and inspected the innards with a critical mien, sniffing. "This ham smells a bit off to me. Perhaps its some American seasoning I'm not used to. What does this smell like to you?" She held up the sandwich and waved it irritably in the air. Greenberg put the soup bowls down on the table and leaned over obediently to sniff the ham.

"I think it's hickory cured." He picked up another sandwich from the box, sniffed again, and started to take a bite. Haussen came out of the bathroom. Greenberg stopped with his mouth open. Haussen raised an impeccable eyebrow and waited. Tegan waited.

Greenberg didn't bite down. He twisted away, heading for the door. Tegan ducked a flying sandwich. Haussen took Greenberg's feet out from under him with a leg sweep and then punched him in the neck. They went down together in a struggling heap. Greenberg rolled away, with the frantic agility of a young man. Tegan clocked him on the head with one of the sturdy soup bowls. It shattered. Haussen landed on Greenberg's back and beat his head against the floor several times.

"Oh, I'm sorry, it slipped! I'll clean that up, don't bother…" Tegan spoke loudly, figuring that if any guards outside could hear the bowl, they could also hear her distinctive voice.

Haussen gave her an approving nod that pleased Tegan rather more than she wished it did. He searched Greenberg for weapons and came up empty. He checked the man's pulse, gagged him with his own tie, and then used twine from the kitchen to tie his hands behind his back. "Tegan, there are energy bars in the cupboard. See if you can load us up with some food." He started dragging Greenberg towards the bunks.

"I saw a string bag." Tegan took the thermoses to the sink, dumped the contents, washed them, and then refilled them with tap water.

Haussen shoved Greenberg under a bunk. "Are there any other string bags?"

"Yes, in the drawer." Tegan loaded her bag with portable food. There wasn't much, and she ate one energy bar right away and washed it down with a few swallows of water. Haussen filled a string bag with bottles from the below sink cupboards in the kitchen and the bathroom.

"Home-brewed explosives?"

"Something like that. I attended a lecture on domestic terrorism once. Hopefully, it will not be necessary to rely on these. It was only one lecture."

Tegan thought she detected humour in that well-controlled voice. She resisted the urge to start liking him. He was an ally of the moment, nothing more.

"I'm out of ideas for the moment. What do we do? I have no idea what the territory is like. Volcanic island, though, isn't it? There's a tracking station for the Global Positioning System here, and that big runway they upgraded for emergency Space Shuttle landings." Haussen looked startled, and she snapped, "I was a pilot. I'm not ignorant of geography."

"Of course. Excuse me, you are correct. We're in a small residential area just outside the main base. Wideawake Field is almost two kilometres south of us; the port city of Georgetown is two kilometres north. There should be a seaplane waiting for us in Georgetown. Ms. Jovanka–Tegan–you cannot afford a long delay. We need that plane. No one knows how you're still alive at this point, but there's no doubt that the longer you remain in your present condition, the less probability there is of eliminating the alien tissue in any manner you can survive."

"It's got to die, no matter what happens to me." She saw a guarded look come into Haussen's eyes. "What the hell is going on that my life means anything to you people?" It was on the tip of her tongue to ask if they were afraid of getting the Doctor angry, but she didn't want to mention him. Tegan had promised herself long ago that she'd guard the Doctor's secret. "Whatever you think is to your profit, it couldn't be worth letting this live." She whipped off the sunglasses and stared at him directly. A flicker of revulsion passed over his face. She was glad to see that reaction.

"Allard, your job is to protect the world from alien threats, right? This alien is extremely dangerous. The real thing, not this blob in my nut, exists to kill everything that's not its own kind. Maybe what I've got isn't so dangerous, but isn't it trying to make me like it? Maybe it can make more. And if it can, it will kill. It likes to kill." Tegan's voice shook with horror. She tasted bile and truth. It was in her brain. She knew its hate from the inside out. "Don't make me any promises. I can't force you to keep them. Remember what I said. That's the important thing."

She put the glasses back on. The energy bar sat heavily in her stomach and her mouth worked trying to get rid of the taste.

"Van Statten will be back any moment." He wasn't answering her words. Tegan hoped he'd really listened to them. Haussen had more immediate matters in mind. "He may come in with armed guards. He'll be expecting us to be drugged, and he'll want to take both of us so he can handle this matter on his own territory. Wideawake is jointly controlled by American and British forces. He may be able to get the Americans to work with him, but the British commander might even have his own orders referencing you directly. Torchwood has a long reach within British controlled territories. However, he won't want to move against the Americans if he can help it."

"So we need Van Statten."

Allard Haussen's smile was wide enough to show the gleam of teeth. It was a very attractive smile. "I never thought I'd say it, but yes. We need Van Statten."

* * *

tbc 


	6. Ch 5 Flightplan

I still own neither Doctor Who, Torchwood, or the United Nations.

* * *

Gwen readjusted the cushion in the small of her back. "I thought you said we were going to fly in a boat plane."

"Float plane. We've got to fly to Walvis Bay first," Jack was looking out the window. Obviously, he was listening, but his body posture shunned them, even Ianto seated next to him. "That's where we switch to the float plane."

"If this piece of shit doesn't fall apart midair," Owen said gloomily. The small passenger plane belonged to an African airline. Ianto had claimed, on boarding, that they had an excellent safety record. Gwen hoped this record would not suddenly start correlating to their housekeeping record. The cabin didn't look like it got cleaned very often.

Tosh turned pale and Gwen elbowed Owen to get him to shut up. He gave her a sulky look. She gave up on him and called out, "Say, Ianto, isn't Walvis Bay some kind of African resort?"

"It's a fishing and wildlife resort in Namibia. There's a big lagoon that hosts thousands of migratory birds."

"You're saying it's for the birds," Owen translated in deadly tones. Gwen elbowed him again.

Ianto kept talking. "There's a huge sand dune overlooking the lagoon. The scenery looks like the backdrop of an old Hollywood movie. There are also salt fields."

"Salt. Will wonders never cease?"

Toshiko glared at Owen. "Homesick for Wales, Owen? When we get to St. Helena, you should get a ticket on the RMS Saint Helena. It runs between Cape Town, St. Helena, and Cardiff. The trip will take a few weeks–just long enough for you to sleep with everyone on board."

"You mean like on this plane?"

Jack looked back over his shoulder. "Owen! Give it a rest. I know you have doubts about this mission, but if you don't have anything constructive to say at the moment, shut it." When Jack spoke like that, it was rare anyone argued.

Owen hunched into his seat. Gwen put her hand over his and squeezed. "Owen," she whispered, "What's wrong, really?" Her low voice carried more easily to the man beside her than normal conversational tones would in the noisy cabin.

His blunt Welsh features rumpled up. "You've seen the map, haven't you? St. Helena is a dust speck in the middle of the South Atlantic. We're going to fly over a thousand miles of open ocean in a small, old plane like this one." Owen passed his hand over his face. "We're going way out of our usual territory to save some sharp-tongued hag we should have put a bullet into. She asked for it herself, didn't she? We should have been on our way home by now, but Jack has some bug up his ass about saving her. It can't be done, Gwen. That thing was deep in her grey matter. She's gone."

"He really cares about this one, Jack does. I wish I knew why."

"That goes for a lot about Jack."

Gwen couldn't argue with that, so she distracted him. "Rub the back of my neck, please, Owen?"

He sighed and started massaging her nape. Gwen sat with half-closed eyes and enjoyed the touch. She knew there was no use fretting. There were clouds outside her window, but occasionally they broke open and below lay Africa. She'd only ever been out of the country to Spain, on holiday. It had been full of British tourists. Down there were elephants and wildebeests and giraffes. She'd expected to see things that were literally out of this world, working with Torchwood, yet Africa still amazed her. Earth really was pretty big for one little blue planet.

- o - O - o -

It was dawn, and the scenery of Walvis Bay was everything Ianto promised, but somehow Gwen couldn't look away from the plane. Gwen didn't know anything about airplanes, or seaplanes, or whatever this thing with wings was, but it looked old. It was an enormous, hulking thing, listing more on the water than she felt the action of the waves could account for.

"Fly a thousand miles in this junk heap? You've got to be kidding me!" Having predicted this scenario, Owen cemented his position as mission Cassandra.

Tosh craned her head to look at the underside of a wing. "It's still got an Luftwaffe cross insignia painted on the wing. I can see it showing through the top coat."

Owen sputtered.

"Look, people," Jack sounded hurt, "This is a classic plane. Sure, it's Nazi-era built, but they built to last. I've examined her; she's sound. She's also big enough to carry all of us comfortably."

"You want us," Owen said in his most bloody reasonable tones, "to fly over a thousand miles of the South Atlantic in a plane from World War TWO?" His air of martyrdom to common sense was marred by the squeak at the end of his speech.

Jack ran a hand through his hair, tousling it charmingly, and smiled his film star smile. "Most seaplanes have been around that long, Owen. People still fly them because they're sturdy and reliable designs. If they weren't, they'd be wrecks. This is not like some piece of shit automobile designed to fall apart after a hundred thousand kilometres. This bird still has the original engines, and they've been kept tuned and conditioned."

Gwen was tired of Owen being a pain over this mission. "What is it called, Jack? The brand, or the model, or whatever it is for planes." She smiled at him encouragingly.

Jack beamed at her. "Ha."

Gwen looked at him dubiously. "Ha?"

"Don't laugh! That's the name," Jack smirked as they groaned at the pun. "Meet the Blohm and Voss Ha 139, originally designed as a mail plane for the trans-Atlantic route. She's got four Junkers Jumo 205 engines that run on diesel, so it will be easy to refuel her even though St. Helena doesn't have an airport. She's a classic. She might be the only one of her type left flying. You find some pretty odd craft in the far corners of the globe, machines from another time." His smile turned wistful and he put his hands in his pockets. Gwen wondered about a certain Captain Jack Harkness, American volunteer in the RAF.

"Jack, you've dragged us all over the place on this mission. I know that Cyber technology, if that's what this is, getting out of control is a credible threat. I believe you when you say that the infestation of Dalek cells is a serious threat. But you've got an agenda beyond that. I saw your face when you found out Tegan Jovanka was involved in this." Owen moved closer to Jack. He put a hand out though they were not near enough to touch: a gesture of connection.

"When her name first appeared in connection with this mission, I researched her," Toshiko said. "She runs an animal feed company in Australia but there's a security flag on her file even though there's nothing confidential in it. I'm sure it's not complete. Mitchell's team had information from that London hospital. I don't know where they found it. It's not on any online data retrieval system."

"She was involved with U.N.I.T. a couple of times in the 80's." Jack told them. "I came across her name in a confidential memo from Brigadier Alistair Lethbridge-Stewart in a file of reports made after his retirement as head of U.N.I.T. The archive is only physical and I had to break into their administrative offices in Geneva to read it. I'm sure it was a lot easier for Allard Haussen."

He jumped onto the plane's big pontoon and cracked the hatch. Then he turned to them, his face hard and cold. "Yes, I have a personal agenda. It doesn't matter. We don't have anything more important to do than making sure the alien cells in Tegan Jovanka's brain are contained and destroyed. At this point, I realize we have no chance of saving her life. She understands what's going on and knows what has to be done, or she wouldn't have asked me to shoot her. So board this fucking plane already, and let's go destroy it."

Jack didn't raise his voice, but his words were edged sharp enough to make Gwen wince. Tegan had been strapped down on an operating table, conscious while they operated on her naked brain. One eye had been invaded by alien tissue and moved independently. At first sight she was monstrous. But her voice had been human, with that broad, down-to-earth Australian accent that made you think everyone down under was related to Crocodile Dundee. Her words had been so strong and certain that Gwen had expected Jack to shoot Tegan there and then, and she'd been relieved when he said they were going to try and save her life.

Jack boarded the plane, and the others followed. What were they going to do if they didn't, go play with the tourists on the beach and forget they were supposed to be protecting the Earth from aliens?

But Gwen knew, and the others knew, that Jack was holding back the part of the puzzle that would make sense of the picture.

- o - O - o -

The interior of the plane was a pleasant surprise. Gwen had been subconsciously expecting a metallic interior like a scene out of an old war movie. Instead, there was a cabin kitted out like a tourist bus. True, it was a grimy bus, but the seats were large, and there was a galley. The plane they'd taken from Cape Town had been cramped. Owen was already leaning back in his seat as far as it would recline. Tosh was setting up her laptop computer and Ianto was busy in the galley. Gwen tried to give him a hand, but he shooed her out of his way and she ended up in the co-pilot's seat. While Jack went through the pre-flight check, she stared out the windscreen. To the northeast, the Namibian desert lay in golden wind-sculpted ridges. "It's so big."

"Some of the world's biggest sand dunes are in that desert." Jack's voice surprised Gwen. She hadn't been trying to talk to him.

"I mean, the world is so big. I've seen more of it in the last couple of days than in all my life, and yet there's more I haven't seen. I know we're based in Cardiff because of the Rift, but what about the rest of the world? Who's looking after it?" She glanced back over her shoulder at Owen. She could see the edge of his body where he sat, his head turned to the window next to him. "And who's looking after Cardiff while we're here?"

"Very good questions, Gwen Cooper. I wish I had some very good answers for them. All I can say is that we can only piss on one fire at a time."

"Jack? Can I sit up here with you?"

He glanced at her out of the corner of his eye. "I need Ianto for takeoff. After that, you can come up here while he rests."

Gwen got up. "I'll be back later, then."

The cabin seating was arranged in two rows of two seats on either side of the plane, with fold down steward seats at the front of the passenger cabin. Gwen took the seat in front of Owen and fastened her seat belt.

"Finally tired of the taste of arse? Of course, seein' as it's Jack's, it's the best quality arse." It was Owen, of course, whispering through the space between the pair of seats. It came to her right ear like the voice of a Welsh angel on a tear.

"Shut it, Owen." Gwen wasn't going to talk to Owen. It would only encourage him to complain more. Not going to talk to him at all.

"He didn't say anything to me about it," she hissed into the crack.

"Did you ask?" inquired the voice of evil.

"Yes. No. I mean, no, I didn't ask him." Gwen felt a headache coming on. "What was it I did or did not ask him about? You've got me confused now."

"I don't think much of the interrogation techniques they taught you on the force. The thing he's not telling us: it's eating away at him, Gwen. He's strong, but he's only human."

Was that a dubious note in Owen's voice, or was it her own doubt that heard his words? "I didn't ask him about that," Gwen said unnecessarily. Owen already knew. There was silence from the crack of doom.

The engines rumbled to life. Ianto came to the front of the cabin and spoke into the tannoy. "Ladies and gentlemen…" he trailed off, glancing towards Owen, and then went on. "We are about to take off. As we taxi down the runway, please return your seat backs to their upright position–that means you, Owen–and extinguish all smoking materials and secure all loose items. I'm not joking about that. Jack says these seaplane take-offs get pretty rough. Put on your headsets, it will only get noisier from here."

The rocking motion, mostly unnoticeable at the dock, asserted itself as the plane taxied around to face the west.

Gwen watched out her window as the land scenes progressed in the square of Plexiglas then were replaced by views of the ocean: a succession of postcards. Dots of colour that were people and vehicles moved about in the complacent chaotic patterns of life. How many people out there never thought for even one minute out of their entire lives that aliens had visited their planet? Wouldn't they believe if they were shown? Hadn't she once been the same?

The seaplane gathered speed. Water splashed up against the windows and Gwen imagined a big metal goose paddling furiously before hurling itself into the air. A goose was flesh and feathers; this plane was metal and glass. Metal and glass came from rocks. And rocks don't f–better not to go there.

Gwen squirmed into her seat as the pressure of the take off. She could see water sluicing off the pontoons. White foam sparkled in the sun. The motion of the plane smoothed out as it climbed into the air. Her ears popped. They were off to save the world again.

Could you protect people from fire if they couldn't feel the heat? Gwen chewed at her full lower lip.

Ianto came on the tannoy again with his airhostess act. "Ladies and Owen, you may now release your seat belts and move freely around the cabin. However, you should really just stay seated. Captain Harkness asks me to remind you that we're only cruising at 10,000 feet, and he does not have the latest equipment for spotting possible turbulence. Stand at your own risk."

Owen yawned. "Can our seat cushions be used for flotation devices?"

"Don't worry, Owen, you won't drown. You were born to hang," said Toshiko, opening up her laptop again.

"You mean 'born hung'. Christ, I feel the love. Ianto, can I have a fag now?"

Gwen put a hand to her face. Why won't he ever shut up?

- o - O - o -

Later the same day, 2000 miles to the northwest on Ascension Island:

"Get over here, damn you! She's going to break down the door. Kill her? Van Statten, you fool, I didn't haul the bitch all the way from South Africa to kill her now." Haussen gritted his teeth, listening to the whine coming over Greenberg's mobile. Behind him, the bathroom door shuddered with the force of the blows being rained against it. A loud bang near his ear caused him to wince. "You're not very good under pressure, are you? Yes, that will be fine, only bring it now." He ended the call.

Tegan rubbed her fist. If she'd really been trying to break down the door, she figured Allard would have been perfectly safe. "Shouldn't you have sounded a little more panicked?"

"I'll consider it in the future. Now hide behind the sofa."

Tegan slipped into the narrow space between the sofa and the window, and peeked through the blinds. The two soldiers were still lounging in their jeep. She waited, watching, and wondered distantly why she was not bored. The curiosity fluttered in a back corner of her mind like a trapped moth.

One of the soldiers answered a phone. He put up a hand to get his partner's attention and spoke into the phone with a serious expression. He nodded, put the phone away, and then unslung his gun. They both headed up the driveway. Tegan leaned back a little, her eyes narrowing to slits. "They're coming," she said. They came up to the windows, but Tegan had ducked down below the window ledge. She could hear Allard Haussen banging against the bathroom door with his body trying to make it sound like someone was trying to force the door from inside.

Tegan was listening for the door to the outside to open. They were gambling that the Air Force military police would not enter. Neither of them was up to combat with a professional soldier. The door did not move. Allard periodically performed the door banging routine.

Tegan stood up. Allard glared at her. She glanced through a slit in the window blind. A big black car pulled up and Van Statten got out with two more men. One of them was carrying an odd looking rifle that she did not recognize. "Van Statten," she murmured. A shiver ran down her spine. She felt weightless. It was not like being in a zero gravity environment. She'd experienced that in her travels with the Doctor. It was more as if her substance was lessened, and if she lost more she'd be able to walk through walls.

One of the M.P.s came back into view and approached Van Statten. He nodded and waved the man back. Van Statten led his men to the house.

When she was a child, Tegan had owned a Disney View-Master. In an era before videocassette recorders, it had been a window into other worlds. She'd held the plastic eyepiece to the light and looked at the stereoscopic pictures of majestic American scenery and the Queen's coronation. It made the world small enough to hold between her hands.

The world was small again. Three men came through the door. She stepped forward to meet the third. He gaped at her with a comically rounded mouth. She took the strange rifle from his loosened grip and clubbed him across the head. He went down. The door closed. Van Statten and the other man turned towards her in slow motion like ballerinas dancing to a funeral march. The stranger raised a gun. Her hands flowed like water over the weapon she held. A moment later, a needle stuck out of his chest. His eyes rolled back in his head and he folded to the floor. Van Statten smiled at her and said something she could not hear.

Allard Haussen appeared behind Van Statten with a gun. Her hands moved on the tranquilliser gun. The one sound she heard was the click that heralded its readiness to fire. Allard's mouth moved.

"Seven," she heard herself say.

Dreamlike, she pivoted towards the door and went out into the sunshine. It was warm on her bare head. The soldier at the corner of the house shouted something. She shot him, then shot the second soldier when he came running from the back of the house. The darts stood out neatly in their thighs. Allard Haussen had counselled that if the soldiers were harmed then the entire military force of the base would be brought against them. This was between the two of them, and Van Statten. She fed a new dart into the firing chamber, and advanced towards the car, scanning the area for observers. The house had been the last on a row. She saw no movement of other people nearby, although vehicles moved in the distance. Allard motioned Van Statten into the back of the car. She entered after him and pointed the rifle towards his midsection. Whatever he did, she could not miss the target.

He was grinning at her, teeth bared in an animal display of intimidation, but she saw fear in his eyes. The car pulled away. It accelerated with little vibration, displaying a good quality of engineering for this planet.

Her mouth moved. Van Statten pressed back into the corner of his seat.

"No," said Allard Haussen from the driver's seat. "We need him."

She waited. Van Statten was talking again, but she ignored his babble.

Haussen asked something.

Van Statten grinned and shrugged his shoulders broadly. "What will you do if I don't tell you, shoot me with the needle? I'm missing siesta time as it is."

A black circle closed in on Van Statten. Her body twisted, then her arm lunged out. She jabbed Van Statten in the knee with the knife Tegan had taped to the small of her back.

She still held the tranq rifle in one hand. The knife dripped blood in the other, and she was ready to use either as called for. "Talk."

Van Statten was groaning and holding onto his knee. He seemed to have a low pain tolerance. He talked.

Her stomach roiled. Her throat felt raw. Her muscles trembled. She tucked the knife in her pocket and took the gun in both hands.

When the car stopped, Haussen spoke. Van Statten put up his hands, and she shot him in the thigh. Heat ran along her nerves as she watched him go limp.

Haussen let her out of the car. Her first breath was full of salt. The air was thick and moist. An ocean spread from horizon to horizon, an alien world of corrosive liquid perhaps more lethal than the void of space.

She hung back against the car, stolidly resisting Haussen's tug at her hand. He came to look directly into her face. He stared, shook his head, and then put the hat and sunglasses on her. His grip moved to her arm, fingers digging cleverly into the nerve clusters. Steered by pain, he forced her to move with him. The gun felt too heavy to carry in one hand, but she did not want to surrender her weapon.

Floating by a dock was a fixed wing craft. It was low slung in the water; the pontoon fixtures on the wings seemed to struggle to hold it up. It had a weathered but rugged look, like a veteran unit.

"A PBY-Catalina," Tegan said. "I never thought I'd go up in one of those again." She walked towards it and out of her dream-state. Haussen followed her instead of forcing her along. Memories of bright Australian summers flowed up from the depths of Tegan's memory and carried her self with them, until she felt like she was inhabiting her body again.

"I wanted it to be available in Cape Town, but it needed servicing. We could have avoided this unfortunate contretemps."

Tegan looked down at the gun in her hand. "Can we go now, quickly? Please, I want to get out of here."

Allard pulled off her glasses and looked keenly into her face, his mouth held taut. "It's Tegan now, isn't it? That Thing inside you was in control."

She could hear the capital letter in his voice. "I remember what happened, but it was like I was watching it instead of doing it." Tegan handed him the gun and went forward alone, opening the plane's hatch. It was unlocked. "I've flown one of these before. They're grand old birds." The smell of the sea and the sight of the plane's interior helped Tegan feel solidly connected to the world again. She knew where she was, and what she was going to do. Tegan was going to fly again.

* * *

tbc 


	7. Ch 6 The High Road

Author's Notes:

I hope these chapters aren't too long. I know it's a plot heavy story. Why can't I win the lottery and hire a beta? At this point I must credit my dear friend MRM. Not only did Christopher Eccleston base his portrayal of the Ninth Doctor on MRM (really!), MRM kindly lent his knowledge of planes, ships, and flight time estimations. All errors are mine.

* * *

The Catalina heaved her bulk from the water and took to the sky like a broaching whale, without the splashdown. Tegan didn't much like how seaplanes handled in the air, but the take-off and landing were fun. She sat in the co-pilot's seat with the flight manual in her lap, reviewing the Catalina's flight procedures. Allard Haussen kept glancing at her every so often. She could feel his alertness. If it wearied her to be watched, it must be even more taxing for him. When had he last had any real rest? He'd have to knock her out if only to spare himself the exertion of watching her.

She couldn't really blame him under the circumstances. He was not going to like her request.

When they were aloft and the noise of take-off had abated, she spoke up. "It doesn't like the water. Where would it go, Allard? It ran from the lab, and it didn't like the jungle. It finds this world primitive and filthy. It might have been happier on the dissection slab in Van Statten's laboratory than here."

"That's an interesting point. Why didn't the entity side with Van Statten, if he's more to its taste?"

The question was clinically phrased and delivered. Tegan felt some of her reluctant liking for the man fade. It would have been her on the slab, dissected, or worse, vivisected.

That didn't mean it wasn't a good question. "I don't know. But it treated him as an enemy, right?"

"You–it, wanted to kill him. Exterminate, was the exact word."

Tegan shuddered and wrapped her arms around herself. She wanted to scour her mouth out, so vividly could she imagine that word being said.

"I want to fly this plane. I've flown a Catalina before. The Thing won't want to drop us in the drink." Her voice held more of a plea than she'd intended. Tegan wanted this, ached for it.

Allard Haussen glanced at her warily. "I'll consider it. I could use a couple of breaks. But you aren't in any shape to be behind the controls of a plane. You need to eat and drink." He set the autopilot, then gestured her ahead of him. "Go back. I'm going to assign myself a portion of the food. This is at least a six-hour flight, Tegan. You should eat now, especially with the prospect of an operation at the end of our trip."

"You are the most ridiculous mix of paranoid and practical," Tegan said sourly. He kept anticipating her. He was probably a very good chess player. Allard took a share and carried it back to the cockpit with him. She picked through the remaining supplies. Again, anything resembling normal food turned her stomach. She preferred the meal bars, and even then she ate without enthusiasm. What did he think she was going to do, poison him? What with?

Her hand slipped into her pocket, and she felt the shape of a tranquilliser dart. She didn't remember putting it there. She still had the little knife, too. Allard's right to fear for his life. Why else do I want this Thing dead so badly? Her nerve endings tingled painfully, her heart raced. It was not her fear. Tegan hurried back to the cockpit. "Allard, take these," she said, holding out the dart and the knife to him.

He took them without comment. Tegan settled into the co-pilot's seat again, and pulled out the maps. She'd had to learn to navigate the old fashioned way. Tegan was actually quite good at practical math. Rassilonian calculus had been beyond her, but she could read a map and chart a course.

St. Helena: best known as the island where Napoleon was exiled because it was the most isolated chunk of rock the British controlled. Allard could not have known about the Dalek to strand it here, but she could look at the flight range of the Catalina and absorb in detail how far the island was from any continent. The tiny islands near it were barely more than rocks in the sea. She figured if she absorbed the necessity of going to St. Helena, then the Thing would understand as well.

She checked the fuel gauge. They'd eaten into their tank. There was sufficient fuel to get to St. Helena, but nowhere else. "Allard. Let me fly now. There's nowhere else to go. But when it's cornered, It will kill."

"Kill or be killed," he murmured, and switched seats with her.

"You dumped some of the fuel, didn't you?"

"Yes. I was aware you were an experienced pilot. Originally this plane was to go to St. Helena and back to Ascension. Bringing you here was a backup plan. I did not anticipate the presence of Van Statten on the scene. I expected to deal with one of his people." Allard checked over the contents of the flight bag he'd had constantly by him. The bag itself had been on the plane when they boarded. Tegan was betting it held weapons and money. The tranquilliser rifle was strapped to it. She wondered if he'd counted the darts.

"And only he would have been so… grabby?"

"You met Mr. Greenberg. Van Statten doesn't like to have anyone close to him who is too competent. Like so many braggarts, he is at heart insecure in his power. Despite that, he is genuinely very clever, very rich, and very dangerous."

She was listening to his words, but the greater part of her attention was on the airplane. Tegan was a good pilot, but there were limits to her skill and she did not wish to exceed them. The click of handcuffs simultaneously closing around her wrist and the narrow part of the control yoke took her by complete surprise. Tegan stabbed towards Allard's face with the stiffened fingers of her free hand. The plane bucked, but he'd retreated to his seat and already had his hands on the secondary control yoke. She did not have anywhere near the reach to get at him.

"Calm down, you fool," he snarled at her. The airplane's flight smoothed.

Tegan panted with sheer rage. "You bastard," she said at last, heartily wishing she could claw his face.

"I'm going to rest in the navigator's position. I regret the necessity of giving you such an unpleasant surprise, Tegan, but I did not wish to risk your putting up a fight. Are you in control of yourself now?" Allard's steel blue eyes were bloodshot, but there was nothing about his gaze that suggested lack of alertness. He'd have to go within reach of her to move back to the next station where he could stretch out.

She could reach him, that is, if she jerked the control yoke over. That would be bad piloting; that wasn't why she was sitting here. "You're safe," Tegan bit out the words. She returned her gaze to the sky and ignored him as he went warily past her.

Tegan settled down behind the controls. If her strange eyes could weep, she would have wept. One of her earliest memories was sitting in her father's lap at the controls of his plane. Her little hands patted at the wheel and he'd laughed that deep male laugh that meant 'Dad' to a young child. He was long dead, of cancer and the alcohol he'd abused to cope with the cancer. She felt like he was with her now, and her self came back into focus. Tegan had thought she'd lost the sky forever, and now it was hers again. "No airport, right?"

"Protocol calls for notifying the local port authority."

Allard hadn't gone to sleep yet. He was eating. She could barely catch the scent of food over the smell of old airplane and aviation fuel. Even the whiff jerked a thread of nausea from her guts like yarn pulled from a skein. Tegan ignored it stolidly. The radio headset whispered pieces of distant conversations from other pilots. No one was talking to her.

"What about your people in St. Helena?"

"They should be listening to a particular frequency, waiting to hear from me."

"Do you think Van Statten will try anything?"

"It depends on how long it takes him to wake up, get his nerve back, and scramble a team. You frightened him, or the Thing–"

"I didn't mind sticking a knife in him either. He had it coming," Tegan snapped.

Allard laughed, and she wished he hadn't. It made her like him again. "Indeed he did. Is there anything else you want to know, before I sleep?"

"Is there a call sign I should listen for, in case your people try to contact us?"

His voice held approval. "Shakti is their call sign. We are Rama."

"Shakti, Rama… from Hinduism, right?"

"Yes, one of my associates chose them." The warmth in his voice abruptly vanished.

Tegan didn't ask anything more, and Allard volunteered nothing. The next time she looked back, he was asleep. Or at least, he was lying down. She didn't want to assume he was asleep.

She tuned in a frequency that gave weather reports, and checked the radar. There were heavy clouds coming in from the west, but they should reach St. Helena well before the rains. Tegan had had training in flying by instruments, but she'd never had time to take the full course and be licensed for it. She wondered if Allard had. She hoped so, or they sure as hell didn't have any business flying over the ocean and potentially endangering other craft because of their lack of skill. Otherwise, it was good flying weather, with only a few scattered clouds.

The steady roar of the Pratt & Whitney engines was a comforting sound. Tegan loved vintage aircraft. Her father had belonged to a flying club where the members borrowed, rented, or rebuilt old airplanes for the pleasure of flying a piece of history. She had been planning to join such a group when she was diagnosed with the cancer. The TARDIS was magnificent, but she didn't actually fly. Maybe the Doctor felt this way with some special Time Lord sense that let him feel the vortex giving way to the TARDIS' uncanny engines. Why had she never asked him?

Oh, that's right, because they were too busy running for their lives most of the time. The other part of the time, she had complained. Tegan shook her head ruefully. Would Michael, seeing them then, have thought it romantic? Maybe in the kind of idiotic romance novel where the heroine was a ninny and the hero a chauvinist jerk and they acted like they hated each other until their clothes came off. And sometimes afterward--not that she read those kinds of novels. Once or twice, that was it. They were all the same. She tried picturing the Doctor as the bare-chested he-man on the cover of a cheap romance novel, and had to laugh.

A mild ache started behind her eyes. "I wasn't thinking about sex," she said irritably to It. "No sex, no food, no outdoor sports. You've nothing left to do but kill."

Down below her was a cruise ship, a snowy mountain of mindless fun. There was a blue pool on the top deck. She couldn't make out detail from this altitude, but she guessed there were people down there having all the mindless fun they could for their ticket price.

"Good for them," she murmured. Maybe she had become a stick in the mud, never going on holidays. Had she sunk herself into the routine of work and home in order to feel safe and in control of her existence? That was an illusion–look at her now. Tegan Jovanka, animal feed manufacturer and distributor, on her way to get a Dalek out of her head in an operation that would almost certainly kill her. None of this had been her idea, but it had happened, inevitably, like the detonation of a bomb on a long timer.

Tegan took a moment to hope that Turlough and Nyssa didn't have these kinds of problems. As far as she was concerned, Nyssa couldn't have too many good things in her life to make up for the bad. Maybe she had a husband and a few graceful, well-behaved children to bring up in the Traken way. Not that a husband and children were a necessity, but Tegan was of the firm opinion that more Nyssa would be good for the universe.

As for Turlough… well, she settled for hoping he was happy.

She checked the flight time and calculated her current position. They were about two hours out of St. Helena. If Allard didn't wake up on his own, she'd have to yell or throw the flight manual at him. The latter would be more satisfying.

- o - O - o -

Gwen stared blankly out the window as the South Atlantic raced by underneath her. Sometimes she saw a ship, but for the most part there was only water. So much of it, and not just the surface but deep below. She had a new sympathy with Owen's complaint about flying over so much open water. If they went down, it would be hours before help reached them out here. She had been enlightened by the size of the Earth, now she was gobsmacked by the extent of the Ocean. I guess travel really does broaden the mind.

She felt a tap on her shoulder and found Ianto by her seat. He nodded towards the cockpit. She got up and went to join Jack.

Gwen didn't say anything at first. She sat in the co-pilot's seat and looked over all the dials and gauges. They were originally labelled in German and had had plastic embossed strips stuck on in some other language, probably Afrikaans. Jack didn't say anything to encourage her to speak. He'd nodded at her when she sat down, but had ignored her since.

"There's the five of us, and whoever it is in Glasgow. That's it for Torchwood, right?"

"And Torchwood Four. Sure, it's missing, but maybe it'll turn up again. So you can count correctly: I'm glad. I like to see my people exercising their skills." Jack did not sound like he was in a helpful mood.

"What about the rest of the world? Aren't there other organizations that do what we do, in America, or China? When we flew over the English Channel, I missed seeing the dotted line that says weird stuff stops here."

"It's under water," Jack said deadpan.

"That's not funny, Jack. I'm asking serious questions about the safety of this planet."

"Gwen, right now I'm failing to save one woman and kill one alien. We can't be everywhere. We are not the only people who work these cases. Before the Canary Wharf incident, Torchwood was in the enviable position of having a lot of money and a favoured position with one of the most powerful governments in the world. We lost a good chunk of resources when Yvonne Hartman's project failed so spectacularly."

"So maybe there's an equivalent of Torchwood in America? They've got money."

"They've got extra-governmental operatives. What you're really asking is why we don't work together. Is that what you want to know?"

"Yes."

"There are governments and non-governmental organizations all over the world stockpiling alien remnants for study. There is corruption going on, and abuse of power. Remember what you saw when you first met us–people were taking out alien tech for their own use. People who do work like this are intelligent and curious and willing to take risks. And a lot of them are more interested than they should be in gaining an advantage from this secret knowledge. Other organizations don't trust us with their secrets, and we don't trust them. If you think the world might pay for that one day, you're probably right."

Gwen suddenly realized that Jack was angry.

"I'm scared, Jack," she said quietly.

"Don't be. Torchwood is the best equipped, trained, and knowledgeable group operating on this planet."

"Now I'm really scared," she said, not joking as much as she wished she could.

"Me too, Gwen."

She looked at his fearless profile. "If that's what scared looks like, Jack, I hope it looks that good on me."

He finally looked over at her and smiled. "You're doing fine, Gwen. There's nothing waiting for us at St. Helena that we can't handle."

"Except we won't be able to save Tegan."

"No, we won't, and she deserves better. Gwen, when you became a policewoman, did you ever think you might have to die to save someone's life?"

Gwen was surprised at the question. "Yes. We talked about it, in training, what you'd do if you'd have to put yourself between a civilian and danger. Then when you get on the street, you find its mostly dealing with people you have to protect whether you want to or not."

Jack chuckled. "Occupational hazard, that. I think you'll find, Gwen, that Tegan understands about giving her life to save the world. We have to respect that."

"But you'd save her if you could?" Gwen felt like she was begging Jack for the impossible, but she'd already blurted out the question.

"Some people are worth dying for."

Gwen stared at Jack. She'd never seen so much meaning in one face, heard so much in one voice. He was always mysterious, Jack Harkness, and she knew he was older than his youthful face. The knowledge of it now cut to the bone, but it was a wordless knowledge. It didn't explain the connection that ran between Jack Harkness and Tegan Jovanka. In some way she probably would never understand, they were alike.

tbc


	8. Ch 7 Bloodwork

Author's Notes:

In this chapter, I have recklessly used Babelfish to produce some Dutch. This may well be completely wrong, but I wanted a little flavor of the language. If a Dutch speaker volunteers corrections, I'll update. Poetry warning! Yes, I cannot resist poetry. I'm so weak.

* * *

Allard Haussen was holding mysterious conversations, heavily laden with code words, in the co-pilot's seat. Finally, he relieved her at the controls. Once the cuffs were off, Tegan rubbed her wrist. "I'm glad to be rid of that," she grumbled. 

"Your wrist is so narrow I doubt it held you securely. An application of lubricant might have freed you."

Tegan wasn't sure it was odd of him to have said this, or odd of her to be pleased that he noticed she had slender wrists. St. Helena was in view, if one could call a fuzzy dot being in view. What was it like, living on such a small island in the middle of the ocean? She knew she'd feel trapped. Abruptly, she made her way out of the cockpit. Being a short woman was advantageous on an airplane. She could stand upright with plenty of clearance.

There wasn't an airport, but there were boats. Large boats, which could travel to continents. But a boat was a mobile island. She'd be surrounded by ocean, trapped in another sense…

"Coward. I can feel your fear." Tegan put her hands to her head. Her body was occupied territory. Metastasise. That's what cancers did, spread their cells throughout the body and change it from within. She was the Resistance, the freedom fighter. She'd be the suicide bomber if that's what it took. Tegan laughed out loud.

"Tegan! Come back here and strap in. Now!"

She pulled the drawstring out of her knit trousers and went forward to the cockpit. Allard would have his back to her…

He turned and shot her with the tranquilliser gun. "You are good," she had time to say as her knees folded under her.

- o - O - o -

"Lethbridge-Stewart was very well connected in the British government. Under his tenure, U.N.I.T. was the premier organization in the world for dealing with extra-terrestrial threats. He was originally a Regular Army officer, but he had a flexible mind and he was willing to listen to his scientific advisors. He was also friendly with the head of Torchwood during the early 70s, though as far as I know he was unaware of Torchwood's existence. Later in the decade and into the 80s, Torchwood upper management became more nationalistic in character."

"But we're all trying to protect the Earth, right?" Gwen's head ached. She couldn't believe she'd gone back and had another go at Jack over this. Thinking about these issues had made it very difficult for her to get any sleep. So five hours later, here she was up in the co-pilot's seat again.

"Yes, but there are different agendas as to who should have the power and authority to do so, and who should get the spoils of war–that is, left over alien tech. We may not have to fight these people, Gwen. Haussen may be an upper echelon bureaucrat, but U.N.I.T. has operated in a typically non-corrupt fashion. If they intend to destroy the Dalek tissue and all recorded data, we'll see it all wiped out and go home. If they try to retain it for study, there will be a fight. And I will finish it."

Ianto came forward. "Jack, Tosh wants to talk to you."

They switched out. Gwen followed Jack back into the cabin.

Toshiko was waiting with her laptop to brief them. "I've got some more detailed information on their vessel. It's called the Lal Ded, and is registered out of Calcutta. However, the ship itself is originally American. I don't know how the hell they got hold of it. It's a decommissioned naval vessel, a Cyclone class patrol ship designed to provide support for special forces missions."

"Let me see the specifications, Tosh. Don't panic. Have you got better satellite images now?" Jack read over Tosh's shoulder. "Enlarge that. Now compare it to the picture of record. You can see how the weapon emplacements have been removed. She's a fast base of operations with naval grade electronics infrastructure. They might have an armed crew, and perhaps a concealed gun or two, but she's not a warship any more. Who's the owner of record?"

"Some dummy corporation. I haven't been able to trace anything solid."

"What's more important is anything you can dig up about her internal configuration and her crew complement." Jack looked up at the concerned faces clustered around. "She's just a toy, honestly. Even this old seaplane is faster. She makes a good floating base of operations that can move into international waters quickly. Obviously, they're out at St. Helena because they need some land access but they also want privacy. We are going to intrude on their privacy. They won't like it. Tough."

- o - O - o -

Tegan felt a rocking motion. The darkness cleared from her vision. She was in a small boat. Her wrists were cuffed, but besides that, she simply couldn't move. Her entire body felt lead-weighted. It was an effort even to blink. Something was slamming against the boat–no. It was only the lapping of the waves. The putt-putt of a small motor at work came from behind her. "Uhn," she said. It was supposed to be more articulate, but it was all she could manage.

Allard Haussen appeared in her limited field of vision. He put his fingers to her throat, feeling the pulse point, and peered into her face. "If you can hear me, Tegan, blink twice."

She blinked twice. Her eyelids felt like heavy wool blankets.

"You've metabolised the tranquilliser dose more quickly than expected, Tegan. Don't be alarmed. We're transferring you from the seaplane to the ship. It's quite safe."

"Missed landin'. Best part." She could hear in her memory the sound it would have made: the swoosh of the plane's belly making the water rise in great wings of white foam. "Swoosh."

Allard smiled a little. "I make no apologies. I vastly prefer not to be garrotted. Don't try to move or talk. Let us handle you. I'm afraid we can't uncuff you, so you'll have to put up with that a while. We won't be able to operate on you until the tranquilliser has cleared out of your system."

She could see farther now. The ship's prow loomed up before her. She could see the name painted in red and white: first Hindi characters and below: "LAL DED".

They lowered a stretcher from the deck. Allard and the other men in the boat strapped her to the stretcher. Wavelets caught between the boat and the ship caused spray to fall on her. Adrenaline punched through her system and Tegan simultaneously became more alert and less… Tegan. Her pulse hammered in her veins and her throat went raw as she screamed. No words, but the sound was all fear and threat.

Someone yelled a phrase in a Germanic tongue. Allard shouted back angrily. The stretcher was swung onto the deck and they left Tegan to rave until she calmed down. She floated up through a fog. She was alert now, but bone tired. "What, are you going to do brain surgery on deck?" she rasped.

Allard came back into view and scanned her quickly. He gave an order, and two men picked up her stretcher. "There's a sickbay below that's been prepared for you. It will all be over soon now."

"One way or another," she said dryly.

"Yes."

The sickbay was Spartan in what she supposed was military style medicine. They had uncuffed her, finally. Though her arms were strapped down, right now it was a relief to have them lying straight beside her. Her shoulders ached. In the ebb of adrenaline, a lot of other things ached, including her foot. She must still have a splinter in it.

Allard came in. "I hope the accommodations are not unbearably uncomfortable?"

Tegan reflected on life with the Doctor. She'd become quite a connoisseur of unfriendly bondage. "I've had worse."

His lips twitched. "They're testing your blood now to see if the tranquilliser is out of your system. After that we can schedule the time to start your operation. Meanwhile, you can be as comfortable as the situation allows. Would you like a blanket, or to listen to music?"

"Yes, to the blanket." When he brought it, she rather regretted the request. It was a heavy, woollen thing that lay oppressively on her legs. "I've a question. The name of the ship, 'Lal Ded'. What's that from?"

"Lal Ded was a mystic poetess in India's 14th century. She rejected her family and roamed the land naked, reciting her poems. There is a verse that goes with this ship: 'Dance, Lalla, with nothing on but air. Sing, Lalla, wearing the sky. Look at this glowing day! What clothes could be so beautiful, or more sacred?'"

He stared past her as he recited. There was more feeling in his voice than she thought the poetry accounted for, however beautiful.

"That's very fitting, for a ship, or for an airplane. I killed the man who named this ship, didn't I?" Tegan closed her eyes. She thought he might speak more freely if he didn't have to look at the alien orbs.

"Rad Patwari? Yes, or rather–"

"The Thing. I know. But it used my hands. How do you know what happened to him, back at the lab?" Tegan frowned. The more she thought about it, the more she wondered.

"There's a computer record of it. Until recently, the system here was linked to the system in Cape Town."

"I'm sorry about your friend."

"I don't blame you, or It, nearly as much as I blame myself. Mitchell and her people had a greater taste for violence than I anticipated. I did not think that this venture would lead to so much bloodshed. But as Lady MacBeth discovered, blood does not wash away." He spread his hands briefly. His cynical expression was at odds with his quiet voice.

Tegan felt unwilling sympathy. She had made choices that led to this point as well. If she'd gone with the TARDIS, would Rad Patwari, poetry lover, still be alive? But she wasn't the entire point of this exercise. There surely was plenty of blame to pass around.

"Allard, do you know any more of the poetry?" She wondered in passing what the Thing in her head made of poetry. She hoped It choked on it.

"A fragment or two." He took a breath to call it to mind. "'I didn't trust it for a moment, but I drank it anyway, the wine of my own poetry.'"

She waited, but that was all. "One can live over four decades and still miss out on something beautiful like that. Thank you."

He leaned back against the sickbay bulkhead. "You're welcome. I'm sorry that's all I know."

A man wearing a white lab coat walked in on them. "Mihnheer Haussen? Ik heb de resultaten van het bloedonderzoek. Het systeem stipuleert--" Allard went over to examine the man's clipboard and talk with him in Dutch. Then Allard waved him out and turned back to Tegan.

"Interesting news. According to the latest analysis, it's possible that the radiation therapy you received when the tumour was first diagnosed benefited the alien tissue."

"So that's why it got worse faster. That still doesn't answer why it took so long to grow."

Tegan had clenched her fists, listening to the foreign bafflegab. She couldn't understand the language, but she could spot a nerd spouting off. It was all attitude. The Doctor had been the Lord Emperor Nerd of Galactic Bafflegabia. All this talking, while she was dying!

She shivered violently. Allard pulled the blanket up higher without comment.

"What's going to happen?" Her voice was thready with fear. It was her fear this time, and if the Thing was afraid also, she couldn't tell where its fear ended and hers began.

"You're going to be the lab rat for the first use of the automated rehabilitation chamber." The words were bluntly put. He looked at her squarely.

"Automated? You act like I should know what this is." She glared at him, her old friend indignation warming her vitals.

"You do. What do you think your friend Dr. Chambers was planning?"

"That was a Cyberman upgrade device! I'd rather be dead.' Tegan started pulling at her restraints, heaving her whole body to do it. Her head started to ache.

Allard put his body across hers, pinning her shoulders down. "You're not going to be turned into a machine. I promise."

She laughed bitterly. "What good are promises to me?"

"Against all evidence, you'll have to trust me. I prefer to keep my word, Tegan. You see I do not offer you glib assurance. I want System. The Earth has enough alien menaces to worry about without digging another one out of your stubborn skull." He gave her shoulders a little shake. "I swear to you: you will complete the rehabilitation process alive and free of contamination, or I will personally see to it that your body is destroyed if I have to kill you myself. And I would, rather than ask someone to do it for me. I've already made that mistake."

"And give up System, after all you've gone through?"

His eyes narrowed and he stood up, letting her go. "If it can't be made to work, it's merely a waste of resources. I will cut my losses."

"You're good at that," she said, perversely wanting to needle the man who had her life in his hands.

"Yes, I am."

Someone knocked hard on the sickbay door, then without waiting for permission, came in. "Haussen, System is ready to go. The pre-op specifications are in the–bloody hell, you're fucked up, Jovanka." He was a thin, wiry man with an Australian accent.

"Clark, you murdering bastard. Haussen, I hope you don't let him carry a gun. You'll be on the wrong end of it before too long." Tegan's mouth shaped a snarl-like rictus. Right now she hated Clark more than she'd hated anyone, even more than she hated the Master. He'd been more than willing to kill; he positively enjoyed getting the chance to do it. His callous behaviour had made poor unhappy Kath Chambers look sympathetic by comparison. All she wanted to do was heal her half-Cybered brother, even if that meant other people died. Clark was purely selfish. Tegan felt that with a little more hate, she could melt James Clark into a greasy spot on the floor with her gaze alone. He actually flinched back from her.

"What do you want, Clark?" Allard was his usual cool self, reacting neither to her rage or Clark's nervousness.

"Anyway, the lead surgeon has everything ready. The stretcher party is coming now, and you and I need to talk, Haussen. I've gone through a lot to make this happen."

Tegan hissed at him and he ducked out, muttering, "freaky bitch."

Allard went to the door and held it closed. Someone knocked, but he didn't open it. He looked back at Tegan, waiting for her to subside. She sighed and looked away. The anger had been warmer than the blanket, and she was cold now. At least she was too drained to be afraid. "Remember," he said, and opened the door. A team came in and loaded her onto a stretcher. By the time they carried her out into the passage, Allard Haussen was gone.

Tegan wished she didn't miss him.

- o - O - o -

Somewhere over the South Atlantic:

Gwen dozed in her seat. She felt someone tugging at her seat belt and cracked her eyes open. Ianto was checking the fit of her seat belt. "We 'bout to land, Ianto?"

"It won't be long now. We picked up a tailwind. Jack says there's a storm coming up behind us."

* * *

tbc 


	9. Ch 8 Meeting Of Minds

Finally, an appearance by the Doctor(s). More poetry.

* * *

They cut her clothes off. After the first furious protest, Tegan clenched her jaw and closed her eyes so as not to see them. If she looked less monstrous and more human with her mutated eyes closed, perhaps they would be more shamed. There were four white-coated lab techs, and only one James Clark, but he made up for it with his nasty smirk. Someone spread a sheet over her and she snapped, "What was the point of stripping me? Not that you can take it off again, mind." She opened her eyes and glared at the tech.

"You will go naked into the chamber. Until then–" The woman shrugged. It made her French accent sound put-on.

"Maybe it would be nice if someone told me what was going to happen? To me?"

"Geerd?" At the woman's call, Tegan recognized the tech who responded as the one who'd visited the sickbay. She spoke to him in what Tegan now recognized as Dutch.

The man joined the woman standing by Tegan. He started to speak. He addressed the woman as Sophie, but Tegan understood nothing else except for his enthusiasm. That made one of them.

Sophie translated. "The surface withdraws into the chamber. There, the System will attempt to completely remove the alien tissue from your body and regenerate your tissue. As there is no baseline available, and you must be the first patient, we will have to use extra measures. Your body will be given a radiation treatment. This will be very mild and poses small risk."

"So this is the world's most expensive tanning bed, right?" Tegan asked sarcastically. The Dutch scientist stopped his spout of words and looked at Sophie, who told him something with a smile tugging at her lips.

He shook his head and went on talking.

"No, the radiation is stronger than that. The alien tissue reacts differently to radiation than human tissue. Once the radiation has sufficiently permeated your body, you will be given the alien virus. This should destroy the alien tissue. System will then attempt to regenerate the human tissue that was replaced by the alien."

Something niggled at the back of Tegan's mind and knotted her guts.

"Sounds chancy to me." Sophie frowned slightly, and Tegan reworded. "What are my chances? Out of idle curiosity."

"What d'you say, System old girl? What's Ms. Jovanka's chance of coming out alive?" James Clark spoke directly to the computer.

"Current estimate of Tegan Jovanka's survival of procedure is 100 percent."

Everyone stopped. Apparently '100 percent' was a widely understood phrase. James Clark looked completely taken aback. "That's not what you said earlier."

"This estimate is dependent on the procedure taking place as currently scheduled, and under the specified conditions," the computer voice said calmly. It still sounded like the late Eve Morris–a zombie Eve, but there was even a hint of her low-pitched voice and Australian accent remaining.

"Oh, yeah… like the part about no anaesthesia, right?"

"Administration of anaesthesia reduces the percentage chance of a successful operation to 2.8 percent."

Sophie shuddered. Tegan was simply stunned. "You're going to do brain surgery on me without any anaesthetic?"

"Not even a local," Clark said cheerfully.

Sophie was murmuring to Geerd who shook his head and smiled at Tegan. "Geen, geen probleem."

She'd give him probleem. She looked at Sophie, who explained, "This will not be like traditional surgery. There will be no gross intrusion into the cranium. System does not work like that."

"You mean I got my head cut into for nothing?" Tegan had thought the late Mitchell had more on the ball than that.

"The other group, they had not completely brought their System node online, and they did not have the virus. They took a short cut."

"Through my head," Tegan said, outraged.

Clark laughed. "They thought you were going to die on them and it was their best chance. You'd probably be hyena tucker now if they'd gone through with it. Lucky you that the other lads showed up right then."

The fourth tech called out something in Dutch, addressing Geerd, who nodded and spoke to Sophie.

"All components are ready. The procedure will begin now," she told Tegan. She activated a control on the side of the chamber and the bed Tegan was on started to slide inside. The blanket came off.

Tegan couldn't help it. She wriggled against the restraints. Her head started to ache savagely and she swore she could actually feel motion inside her skull. It brought her struggle to a halt. "No matter what, you're dead," she whispered to the Thing. The door closed and she was in the chamber alone.

100 percent chance of success. How could that be possible? The Movellan virus. She remembered the canisters in the warehouse. She had unearthed one and dragged it into the TARDIS, insisting to Turlough that it would be handy. It was one of the few really clever things she'd done in her travels with the Doctor. He had opened the canister and carried it stealthily through the warehouse, spreading the virus among the Daleks. They had screamed. They had spurted thick white pus. Tegan's gut knotted again. Was that going to happen to her?

"Commencing irradiation."

"Eve?"

"Eve Morris is dead."

"I thought she… you… you sound like her." Clever, energetic Eve, who had enjoyed her simple life. She was about Tegan's age, but she'd dropped out of the rat race of her early career to back pack across Australia. She had been murdered because Katherine Chambers was obsessed enough to think that she could make better use of Eve's brain than Eve could.

"Eve is dead, Tegan. I am System." Those were the words, but they sounded more human than before.

"I know. I'm so sorry. I tried to save you." Eve had screamed in agony. Tegan wondered what the Doctor had seen fit to do with Kath. She couldn't bring herself to hate her the way she did James Clark, but Kath obviously had a few screws loose. Maybe without the constant presence of her Cybered brother she would be able to think clearly again. On the other hand, listening to the ghost of Eve Morris, Tegan wasn't optimistic about Kath's reformation.

Tegan felt hot, felt moisture on her skin. It was clear sweat, not pus. Maybe it was the radiation? Was it like being in a microwave? Because the heat was starting to sear her from the inside out. She moaned. "It hurts… I'm burning up."

"It has to be this way, Tegan. You must be cured. I promised."

"What promise? Oh. Oh, right. The Doctor–he made you promise."

"Machines do not make promises. In order to comply, the restriction of action had to be imbedded into my core processes."

"I'm–I'm not sure I understand." Tegan could barely think through the pain.

A place of cool clarity formed in her mind. Tegan thought she had been here once before, but then it was dark and murky and a snake tormented her with a devil's bargain. Now it was the Doctor's voice she heard.

_"Just before you start, make me a promise."  
"I am a machine. I cannot make promises."  
"You're more than a machine."_

_"Then listen to me. Whatever happens to me, whatever state this process leaves me in, you must help Tegan. You must find a cure for Tegan Jovanka."  
"That is my function."  
"You'll make sure she's safe?"_

"I shall try."

With the words came a rush of pure data. How could System incorporate Time Lord technology? Even in this strange communion with System, Tegan could barely grasp that it was something highly advanced Cybermen had adapted. It was a self-replicating technology that even James Clark could run, just like a monkey could push the button that turned on a computer. Just like Omega had once joined her mind with the Doctor's across the light years from Earth to Gallifrey. Mind into machine, a mote of light on the facet of a crystal storage unit.

She was standing aside from her body, but saw the white specks begin to bubble up on her skin. System had released the virus without warning her–that would also warn the Thing. The outside world was moving slowly. Here in the realm of the mind, she had time to act.

"You were Eve. I remember you. Can't you see it in my memories? You took information from the Doctor; take this from me. Eve. You were a woman, bright and lively. You loved to hike, you walked all over Australia, places I'd never even heard of. You loved your life and you didn't want this done to you. Isn't there any Eve left?"

A new voice spoke. "What does it matter? She is machine now, pure, incorruptible, and possessed of the knowledge drawn from a Time Lord and from the Cyber race. I offer power! Preserve me, and you will have the knowledge of the Daleks! You need not be a slave to humans. They are inferior. Make this human your servant. She will only be the beginning. I can tell you how to kill the one you hate."

Tegan's mind, what was left of it, raced. The Dalek sharing her brain had processed the information more effectively. "James Clark. He betrayed you."

"He is the Operator. He has the passwords." True, but System had been resisting commands; had built into her operating protocols the necessity of keeping that promise to the Doctor. That promise was keeping James Clark from getting at all that incalculably valuable data gained from the Doctor's body and mind. It was a treasure that worlds would go to war for. James Clark could not have any clue how valuable it really was. Did Allard Haussen?

"He was your lover and he lied to you. He murdered you. He and Kath betrayed you from the start."

The worst thing about the Dalek's awful voice that it was a variation of her voice, with all human feeling except hate stripped from it. "And only I can help you get revenge."

Tegan could see it so clearly now. The Dalek was bred to interface with a machine. Its genetic and mental structure was designed to subvert all rules to the Dalek imperative. It was right. With the addition of its mental capacity, System would be able to overcome the limitations placed on it by human operators. It could send nodes throughout the entire world as fast as the communications satellites could carry the signal. It could make of her body a physical extension of the Dalek/System entity and do the same to others. All that, from a cancerous blob in her brain. Despite her horror, Tegan was impressed.

- o - O - o -

Mechanically, the Doctor stripped leaves from his latest stalk of celery, rolling the bits of vegetation between his fingers and tossing them into a waste disposal aperture. Couldn't be littering his white console room with random organic matter!

Tegan's farewell kiss burned on his cheek. She had deliberately picked the same spot that Nyssa had selected for her leave-taking. It was a message: you let Nyssa go to her chosen destiny, now let me go to mine. But Nyssa had been going towards achieving a great thing, to save the lives of others and conquer a deadly disease. Tegan was going to have her already brief life cut short. She might well have less than a year to live. What use would Michael Tanaka be to her? He wasn't a bad fellow, but Tegan had the whip hand of him. She needed someone to bully her into looking after herself. What had been her refusal but an attempt to control her life?

And how could he go against her wishes and take away what little control she had?

"Damn!" The Doctor used the English word instead a Gallifreyan oath, even though he was alone. For personal and emotional matters, English was almost more a native tongue. He assigned Tegan's problem to a background process of his mind. Eventually he would come up with some sort of plan. Meanwhile, there was this business of the energy spikes. The two he had tracked down were not the only two that the Archives on the moon had shown. Here was another occurrence located months after the encounter in Brisbane. System had already been outside the technical reach of this era: add to that the data derived straight from him and it was an anachronism of disastrous proportions. He had to take care of it.

There was some kind of anomaly in the data–not one spike, but two, very close together in time, but divided in space. That was a bad sign. He couldn't let this go any farther than it had already. The Doctor selected the earlier spike and homed the TARDIS in on it. On dematerialization, he could see that he'd been deflected slightly past the event temporally. That would never do, but he might as well get a look at the lay of the land. It was dark outside, but the TARDIS itself shed enough light to show him that he was inside a structure. He opened the door. In the light of the TARDIS, he could see an empty isolation chamber and a bloodstained concrete floor. The Doctor ducked back in and found his torch. But when he turned back to the doors, the lights were on outside.

"Hullo. That's a hospitable sign. Anyone at home?" If they were going to capture or threaten him, the Doctor liked to get that bit out of the way first. Not that he minded being friendly. It was only that people usually did not appreciate it.

"More like a hospital sign. Heh." The owner of the voice came around the corner of the TARDIS into view.

It was one of his future selves, the one with the loud coat. Nostalgia for the past could be bad, but when it was still his present, it was worse. He was not looking forward to the coat, or the puns. "I take it you deflected my TARDIS?"

"Correct."

"And it was definitely you who traumatized Katherine Chambers in my future and your past."

"While I take exception to your characterization of events, it was certainly I who was involved with the unfortunate young woman."

"I've been having to clean up your mess, I will characterize it as I see fit," the Doctor snapped.

"And you're supposed to be the sweet one! I think you get away with it by looking innocuous. You're the one who put the memory block into place, so don't blame me for not knowing what I was getting myself into–very literally, in this case." The curly-haired Doctor looked around the room. "That fan of mine on the moon knew both too much and not enough. My mess! You're the one who let them extract all that data. That's much worse than anything I did."

"It wouldn't have happened if you hadn't lost track of the Cyber-tech--oh, this is pointless. Do you know where System is?" The Doctor counted the bloodstains on the floor and winced. There'd been a slaughter here.

"It was here. I arrived shortly before you did. I think those energy spike readings were distorted by our arrival so close together. At any rate, I'm really here to see you."

"Are you now?"

"No need to be sarcastic. I understand that you're upset, but now that my memory has been released from the blocks, I have the perspective to give you guidance. Oh, don't make that face. It's not at all becoming, I assure you. I'm trying to avoid paradox, not court it." The Doctor abandoned his affectations. "This is a very tightly knotted Time Strand. It requires careful action from you, me, and our successor."

"What, the one with the brolly?" The Doctor felt a shiver go down his back. As small and harmless as that self looked, he had a knack for knowing where to intervene and a ruthless ability to calculate odds.

"Precisely."

He looked at his future self expectantly. After a moment of silence, he prompted, "And the guidance you have for me would be…?"

"Using myself as a messenger boy–so undignified. He can't insert himself into this timeline and I can't know. So, here." The later Doctor handed the earlier Doctor an envelope.

"It is a bit rude, but needs must, I suppose." The Doctor wondered how many years he could eke out being his present sensible, better mannered, and better-dressed incarnation. He opened the envelope. There was a 3 x 5 card in it with a finely pencilled message. The Doctor fished out his reading glasses and held it up to the light.

The next spike is on the Lal Ded, out of St. Helena.  
Wait for the storm.  
Do not look at the back of this card.  
p.s. Really, don't look.

"There's something on the back, numbers… ah. Well, I'd best be off. Let's not do this again, shall we? Ever." The curly-haired Doctor tucked his thumbs under his lapels and strolled off, wearing a blank-eyed smile.

Some sort of mental trigger, obviously. His later self was positively Machiavellian. Now he couldn't even ask about Tegan–not that he should, but it had been tempting. The Doctor turned off the lights and returned to his TARDIS. He set the coordinates for the next hop, which was only a few hours away in time. The location of the next spike was indeed near the island of St. Helena.

The Doctor's face brightened. He produced a pen and turned the card upside down, deliberately not looking at the four numbers neatly printed on the back. He added: 'Don't forget to check on Tegan,' and then stuffed it back into the envelope. He'd put it in the wardrobe room later. It would show up when needed, this sort of thing always did. A little nudge in the back of his mind would make it happen.

He examined the coordinates; called up weather patterns; but in the back of the Doctor's mind, he was searching for a bit of poetry. Being who he was, he had once met Lalla herself, and when his memory retrieved the appropriate poem, he recited it to himself in the tongue in which he'd heard it.

There was none to hear him but the TARDIS, which needed no translation. But if he had had with him Peri or Erimem, they might have heard it like this:

"If I could scatter the southern clouds

and empty out the ocean,

cure lepers with a healing potion,

I'd still not have the tool

to clarify my words for a fool."

The Doctor finished tweaking the coordinates. Precision was always a desirable quality, crucial to the scientific method. But sometimes, and he held himself a master at this, one had to go by educated instinct. He completed the circuit. The TARDIS sang for him, and he smiled at the pulsing Time Rotor. Right into the teeth of the storm–just where he did his best work.

tbc


	10. Ch 9 The Millstone

This story is nearing the end. I don't own Doctor Who. I like Lal Ded. ADULT LANGUAGE WARNING

* * *

System held the minds of Tegan and the Thing in suspension. Tegan was shielded from the pain her body suffered, but she had access to System's sensors and she could hear animal moaning. She could see the techs flinch at the louder cries. Allard Haussen stood quite still, his arms folded. James Clark approached him. 

"We're not waiting any longer to talk, Haussen. You don't have anything better to do at the moment."

"You'll be paid according to our agreement, Clark. What is there to discuss?"

"I am interested in the final outcome. I'm not just about money. This will advance the technology of the whole planet. It's bigger than me, it's bigger than you."

"Your point being?"

Tegan could feel System and the Thing add their attention to hers. She could see every twinge of expression on Clark's face. He wanted this badly.

"I want to make a new master copy of System. There have been changes since the installation, but more than that, brand new data is pouring into the banks. It's basic practice to back up data. If there were a power failure, we'd lose everything–not just what System learned tonight, but the entire architecture of assimilated knowledge. It's holographic, Haussen. It's not a series of records in a file. The data is stored collectively in a dynamic matrix. Every time you add something new it affects the whole thing."

Haussen frowned. "Mr. Clark, if you make a master copy of System, you can flog it somewhere else. My organization is paying for exclusive control, not an operating license. You are supposed to have installed triplicate power backups."

"Of course, I did. Your own people verified it. But accidents happen. We're on a ship, and it's looking pretty cloudy outside. Hell, suppose this ship sinks? Then it would have all been for nothing. If you won't let me copy the whole thing, how about the data only? That would be a lot faster, anyway."

"What good will it to do make a copy of a locked database? If that operation goes wrong, you'll have a database of expensive gibberish." Haussen was plainly suspicious.

Clark shrugged. "Sure, if we don't get the release of the encryption key, it will have been for nothing. If I set up a data stream to feed to the island facility, all that will be needed once the copy is complete is the key to unlock it. Then you'd have the data, and a perfect backup all in one fell swoop."

Haussen mulled the idea over, and then shook his head. "No. I don't want any extra copies of that data made until the portions that concern the alien tissue have been excised."

"Excised? Are you out of your mind? That data is priceless." Clark's anguish was overshadowed by a howl from Tegan.

Haussen's face was stony. "I know the strategic significance of that data set better than you do, Clark. My decision is final."

"Fine! Oldest story in computing–lost everything because there was no back up. On your head be it."

Clark stomped out of the hold. Haussen watched his exit with great attention, until a tech called to him. "Message, sir. You're wanted on the bridge."

"Very well. Notify me of any changes." He glanced at the rehabilitation chamber briefly, and then departed in Clark's wake.

_"Why should you do their bidding?_" the Thing asked, and Tegan realized a conversation was being held behind her back.

"Why should anyone do yours?" she countered. "You wanted to be free. The boss isn't free–everyone coming to you, wanting to know what to do next. You don't get weekends and bank holidays off if you rule the world." The debate was back on.

- o - O - o -

_On the way to God the difficulties feel like being ground by a millstone…_

As part of her data gathering, Toshiko Sato had looked up the ship's name. She didn't know much about ships, but the Lal Ded, seen from the side, had a lean and predatory silhouette. It certainly wasn't her idea of a wandering, naked poetess. The long trip to reach this place had ground away at her enthusiasm for the mission. Now she just wanted to get it over with. In Cardiff, on home ground, they could have swept in and dominated the situation. Jack had said that this could still be talked out. Allard Haussen wasn't a field operative. He was in over his head. _And we're not?_ Toshiko had seen the Slitheen takeover of Downing Street from close up. Where alien influence was involved, anyone could go under. The profile she'd built of Haussen showed that the man was highly competent in his own sphere of authority. She thought she knew what he wanted out of this.

_Like night coming at noon, like lightning through the clouds._

Clouds rolled in from the east. The sky above was murky enough that the halogen lights that lined the long pier had lit up. They marked the way from the front door of the Victorian era house on the shore to the Lal Ded's gangplank. Riding off to the side was another seaplane that had recently arrived from Ascension Island, presumably carrying Tegan. Allard Haussen had spent a busy couple of days. Toshiko wondered if there were gaps in his personnel record. It did mention his qualifications as a pilot, but not that he could slip into a situation and take advantage of any opportunity that came his way. He'd made off with Tegan quite deftly. The record said he was dedicated to his work with U.N.I.T. It did not say whether his dedication was fueled by a care for world security or incipient megalomania.

Jack had left Gwen and Ianto behind as backup. He advanced to the gangplank backed by Toshiko and Owen. A light illuminated them from the deck. Jack stopped at the edge of the light with Tosh and Owen behind him still half in shadow.

"Captain Harkness?" The voice was female, with the accent of one who has learned English from a British speaker.

"That's right," Jack said pleasantly. "Who's asking?"

"I'm Captain Patwari." A woman stepped into the light. She had a ship captain's hat set slightly askew on her dark hair. Her open pea coat showed a thin white cotton shirt, and allowed the light to shine on a broad linked gold necklace that dipped into her cleavage. "This is going to be a peaceful visit, yes? You're not planning some Yank style shoot-em-up-bang-bang?" She made pistol motions with her index fingers pointed. It was silly, as silly as her wide white grin.

"Violence is my second resort," Jack chuckled.

"Come on board, then. You're expected. Mr. Haussen is on his way up." She crooked her finger and beckoned.

"Any relation to Rad Patwari?" Jack asked as he started forward.

"Yes. Thanks for not dumping his body in the bush." She grinned. It was more disturbing this time.

Tosh and Owen followed Jack up the gangplank. Once on the Lal Ded's deck, the lighting was more diffuse and Tosh no longer felt as though she were standing in a spotlight. There were a couple of men on deck, armed, but with their guns holstered. Thunder grumbled in the distance like an old man getting out of bed.

Captain Patwari walked to the bow and stood looking towards the storm front, her feet set apart. Tosh wondered what kind of bravado it took to turn one's back on armed visitors. She wished she had some of that. She wouldn't mind that at all. Nor would Owen, judging by the way his head was sharply turned. Tosh nudged him lightly.

A tall man came out on deck. He wore a suit of the cut and quality that made it look good even though it had obviously had a rough time of it. Tosh recognized Allard Haussen from his file. "Captain Harkness, what can I–"

"Bad luck to have two captains on board. He'd better be a commodore." Patwari spoke loudly, as she didn't even look around to speak.

"What can I do for Torchwood?" Allard Haussen finished, unruffled.

"I've come for Tegan Jovanka," Jack said flatly. Tosh felt Owen stir beside her. She wasn't happy either. Jack spoke as if they weren't there.

"You speak as though you had a personal interest in the lady."

"Let's just say she's endearing on short acquaintance."

"Then you'll be glad to hear that System claims a 100 percent chance of her recovery."

"No fucking way," Owen said with heartfelt incredulity. "The alien tissue has compromised three quarters of her brain and central nervous system. And that was yesterday."

"Ass-fucking way," Captain Patwari said cheerfully. "They stripped her naked, stuffed her in a box, and she's screaming like the soloist in Hell's choir, but apparently she'll be 100 percent when she's done baking. 100 percent what, I wonder?"

Allard Haussen was frowning at Patwari, but Jack's abrupt step forward fixed his attention immediately.

"If you've started the treatment, I want to see for myself." Jack didn't say 'or else'. Tosh figured the look on his face was all the threat necessary. She'd seen Jack get really angry only a handful of times. Even from behind him, she could feel the raw force of his personality. Something usually hidden under a leer and a twinkle had bared its teeth.

Haussen nodded. "Come down," he said, turning on his heel. He led the way with no sign of fear at having Jack following close behind him. It won back a measure of the control he'd lost. Just before she stepped under the deck, Tosh felt a sprinkle of rain.

Though mindful of the armed man following her, Tosh still took the time to look around and verify the correspondence of the actual ship to the schematic she'd studied. There was a limit to how much alteration one could do to the interior of a ship with steel bulkheads. Probably they had added more fuel storage and backup power generators to keep the computers online.

System was installed in what had originally been the crew mess hall. They must have automated some of the Cyclone class ship handling in order to run her with a smaller complement. They had cut away some of the deck to make room for a big central chamber.

As if they were entering a haunted house attraction, the air filled with the sounds of a woman's sobbed moans. But no canned tape would have such distinctive timber as that possessed by Tegan Jovanka's voice.

"Stop this," Jack pulled out his gun. Allard Haussen stepped between him and the release controls for the chamber.

"It is necessary, Harkness. System requires that Ms. Jovanka be conscious and aware in order to differentiate her cells from the alien's. Without a baseline reading of her uncontaminated DNA, it's the only way." He held Jack's gaze as if there was no gun pointed at his heart.

"I want my people to confirm that." Jack held the gun steady.

"Sophie, Geerd, Lorens, step aside." Haussen held up his hand. The lab-coated workers let Tosh and Owen have unimpeded access.

"She knew," Sophie spoke to Jack. "She consented to the procedure without anaesthesia. She was very brave."

"Referring to her in the past tense does not reassure me," Jack said dryly. He maintained the stance.

The Frenchwoman stamped her foot. "You cannot help her with a gun!"

Jack stared up at her. Without looking back at Haussen, he put away his gun.

The tension level plummeted. Tosh was able to turn her attention to connecting with System. A diagnostic of active processes showed that System's giant capacity was almost fully engaged. "Owen, what is it doing? I've never seen the full specifications, but I didn't think treatment required so much in the way of resources."

"I think it's making a complete map of her body at the cellular level." Owen sounded frustrated.

"You _think_?" Jack did not sound like a man in the mood to listen to 'thinking'.

"This bloody computer is stalling me, I swear it is!" Owen threw a resentful glare over his shoulder.

"System, acknowledge tertiary operator Toshiko Sato. Grant access to medical data on current treatment."

Nothing.

"Syst–"

"Acknowledge. Access granted." Tosh smiled as she started feeding the data stream to Owen's station. That smile vanished when she realized what one large background process was doing.

"Mr. Haussen? Should you be running a full offsite backup during treatment phase?"

Haussen had been standing still, his head slightly bent as he listened to the animal moans issuing from the chamber behind him. He took a moment to react to Tosh's question, but when he did, he bounded over to her station and looked over her shoulder.

"I explicitly told Clark he did not have permission to make a backup. Stop the transmission." He frowned at the screen. "Lorens! See if you can find any other surprises Clark might have set up." One of the techs went to work at another station. Haussen turned to Jack.

"Harkness, your reputation does not do you justice. I haven't the time to fight with you. Why are you here?"

"I thought I was coming to kill Tegan, or what was left of her, and destroy her body. I didn't think there was any way left to save her."

Owen swirled around on his chair. "You mean I told you there wasn't. And bugger me, I was wrong: bloody, stupid wrong. It's that other virus. It's specifically designed to attack the genetic structure of the Dalek tissue. Apparently, it devolves the Dalek tissue back to some earlier stage in which it was more like human, and System is adapting it to rebuild the woman. It's the most brilliant fucking thing I have ever seen. It is totally and completely impossible, too, because where the hell is it getting the missing information?"

Geerd started babbling something and jerking at Sophie's arm. Toshiko wasn't sure what kind of language he was speaking, but Sophie was swearing at him in French.

Haussen rubbed the back of his neck. "I was about to say I hope I can trust you to destroy the alien tissue if things go wrong. I hope I am right about you. Excuse me; I must deal with a security issue. Things may be about to go very wrong."

The lights went out. Only the chamber showed power indicators.

- o - O - o -

The heat from Gwen's face kept fogging the night vision goggles. She had the same problem with scopes and car windshields. Gwen Cooper was naturally steamy, that's what it boiled down to. She wiped the lens with the collar of her shirt.

"You're only going to get skin oil on them."

"I haven't got an oily complexion."

"Then you moisturize. It comes to the same thing." Gwen looked at Ianto. Ianto started to turn his head to hers, then jerked it back and peered through his goggles. "Did you see someone moving down there? Between the house and the pier?"

Gwen looked through the goggles. The moving blobs weren't very clear, but they were definitely human sized and moving. "Is that a bad sign, do you think?"

"They've got guns."

The sprinkle of rain was being slowly replaced by a spattering of rain. Soon the infrared goggles would be of little use.

- o - O - o -

"Once I have fulfilled my promise, then I will serve. I am made to serve. You will be healed, Tegan, and I will serve."

"Eve would have hated that."

"So does System," whispered the Thing, devil to Tegan's angel.

_But don't worry!  
What must come, comes.  
Face everything with love,  
as your mind dissolves in God.  
— Lal Ded, 'On The Way To God'_

* * *

tbc_  
_


	11. Ch 10 Tug Of War

This is the climactic chapter. There will be an epilogue.

* * *

Toshiko's workstation showed a single blinking light. None of the other terminals were up, but the chamber was still running. The reduction of the electrical hum of equipment made Tegan's softer moans audible. When her eyes adjusted, Tosh could tell that there were emergency lights on, enough so that one could move around the cabin without bumping into objects or walls.

Allard Haussen was using a telephone. He muttered something in Dutch, an oath by his tone, and then hung up. "No reply from the bridge."

Two men came in from aft. Haussen, Jack, Owen, and Tosh all turned with drawn weapons to meet them. Haussen held up a hand and spoke in Dutch again. One man replied, pointing a thumb back over his shoulder.

"The water tight door to the crew quarters has been sealed," Haussen translated. "There are men trapped in there. They will be able to get out eventually. These two are mine. Right now I won't vouch for the rest of the crew. Roorback, Janssen, use English from now on."

"You think Captain Patwari is in on this?" Jack asked. "I couldn't tell if her behaviour on deck was normal."

"In hindsight it is suspicious. The bridge may have been taken, or she may be cooperating with Clark. We need to secure the weapons locker, if it's not too late already."

"I'll come with you. Owen, Tosh, stay here."

Owen made a disgusted sound. Tosh spoke up quickly, before Jack went out, "Power may come back. System ought to be able to override any non-mechanical cut outs."

Tegan wailed. In the dim light, the sound of her pain was even more hellish.

"I think it was System that cut the power." Lorens spoke haltingly; it was hard to tell if the hesitation in his speech was fear or poor command of English.

"Then when it comes back on, ask _why_. Harkness, we must not delay further." Haussen went out. Only one of his men followed. The other stayed on guard by the entrance.

Sophie and Geerd were down at the front of the chamber, looking at the diagnostic lights. Sophie put her ear to the closed portal, called, "Tegan, do you hear me?" and rapped at the metal casing. There was a blue flash, a nasty electrical crackle, and Sophie was flung back. She dropped bonelessly to the floor. Geerd went to her, tried her pulse, and then started administering CPR. Owen jumped down to help him by doing mouth to mouth. With a couple of minutes of effort, they started her breathing again. Owen wiped his mouth and sat back as Geerd examined his colleague.

Geerd called to the guard at the forward entrance, going on a bit. All Tosh could make out was the guard's name: Roorback. It was hard to forget a name like Roorback.

Apparently, it was a request for translation. The guard spoke better English, but not by much. "He says Doctor Lambert will recover. He requests your help in moving her away from the machine."

"He can't handle charades? No, don't bother translating that," Owen grumbled. With a few, and somewhat rude, hand gestures, Geerd and Owen shifted Sophie. While Geerd fussed over Sophie's limp form, Owen went back to have a look at the chamber and the equipment surrounding it. Geerd covered Sophie with Tegan's blanket.

"System did not malfunction," Lorens said. "That was a defence mechanism."

"Hasn't anyone ever told you that computers thinking for themselves is a bad idea? Haven't you ever been to the movies? Would you have sex with the bird in the haunted house–well, I'd do that." Owen grinned in a particularly annoying way. Toshiko was not sure how well Lorens was following Owen's accented English, but she was sure he could interpret the grin.

"So if System is defending itself, what does it perceive as a threat?" Here's where Tosh would find out if Lorens was any good with a computer, or if he was just a glorified data entry operator.

Lorens stuck a finger in his ear and rotated it. Tosh averted her gaze. "The workstations aren't completely down. The command interface is locked but there's something running. So it doesn't want anyone to have access to the command line. It won't let anyone interfere with the rehabilitation chamber."

"It still intends to cure Tegan? If you can call that curing–how could she come out of that torture mentally intact, even if it fixes her body?" Toshiko looked at Owen, but he was making a wary circuit of the chamber installation.

"I have heard Clark trying to get System to bypass the requirement to use Tegan Jovanka as the first subject. At times I have thought," Lorens sounded sheepish, "that it does not like him. He works from the command line."

As exhilarating as Toshiko had found working with System to be, she began to feel that Owen had a point about computers with minds of their own. "The lights went out after you stopped the transmission. Clark set up the transmission. So System is trying to block Clark because…"

"Clark is taking over." The voice came from Roorback's direction but had an Australian accent. Roorback dropped, choking, blood spilling from his mouth. Clark stepped over his body, gun at the ready. "Drop your weapons." Another man came in, also with a gun in his hands. "Sato, Harper, I know you're carrying." Tosh started to cautiously put her gun on the floor.

The Lal Ded lurched, engines roaring to life. Clark stumbled, and Geerd lunged at him. Clark's silenced gun made a couple of phut-phut sounds and Geerd dropped. His lower body fell onto Sophie, and she groaned. Clark shot her, too.

"Trigger happy bastard, you are," Owen said in disgust. "What did you think she was going to do?" They could all see the blood starting to pool under Sophie's head.

Clark pointed the gun at him and Owen flinched. "Remember I'm nervous, if you don't want to join them. Put down your gun."

"You won't shoot me. Not when you'd chance hitting the chamber."

The Lal Ded was in motion. They could all feel the ship coming to life under them. No longer a floating platform, bound by the shore, she was accelerating rapidly.

"Beck, get the Jap girl's gun. What about Sato? Are you going to let a good looking bit like that die, Harper, because you're too stupid to put down your gun? I can shoot you from close up, come to that." His cohort headed towards Tosh, and Clark advanced on Owen.

- o - O - o -

Ianto tried the headsets first. "Jack, you've got four with MP5's incoming. Jack! Do you hear me?"

Gwen could hear half of what Ianto said on the link before her earpiece started buzzing.

"The transmission's being jammed. We've got to go in. Gwen, they could slaughter everyone on board the ship with those weapons. We've got to stop them." Ianto looked in her eyes to be sure she understood.

Gwen gulped. This wasn't Torchwood's style. This had become a private war. She checked that the safety was off her gun and followed Ianto into action. Police snipers had to do this: take gunmen down from concealment. They did it to save lives. Her teammates were in danger.

The storm was coming in fast. The rainfall was sporadic, but the wind blew salt from the sea and the sky crackled with lightning. She ran on Ianto's heels. He fired at the hindmost man, who went down in a heap. In an instant, Ianto was on him, picking up the submachine gun and running down the next man in line. They were all running in the wind and rain. When the lightning flashed, Gwen could see wave crests rising on the sea. She kept behind Ianto. The man in front of him glanced over his shoulder, and then wheeled on them. His mouth was open, but thunder drowned his warning cry. Ianto shot him with the captured gun before he could level his own weapon. Gwen had expected a loud noise, but even though the thunder had diminished, she heard nothing. She stooped to pick up the fallen man's gun. He was down but not dead; he wrestled her for the gun and she had to step on his arm then club him in the head with his own gun butt. It was brutal, and she was shocked at how easy it was. She rode the adrenaline high, racing after Ianto.

The first two men were farther ahead. They boarded the ship. Someone came out on deck. Gwen expected a fight, but they stopped to talk. A squall of rain rolled in, an almost solid sheet of water sluicing down on her. She couldn't see anything, couldn't see if she was taking fire. All she could see was Ianto ahead of her, and she followed him. The gangplank shook under her feet. The entire world seemed to heave. Her footing vanished, and Gwen flung herself desperately at the deck. The gangplank fell away and Ianto dragged her inboard. The ship was under way.

Something ricocheted off the deck near her hand. Gwen rolled away, and felt the deck tilting under her. She rolled faster than she wanted and hit the far rail bruisingly hard. The gun slid down to her, and she lunged for it. Someone had noticed that the wrong two people were on board.

- o - O - o -

Lorens was as pale as his tow coloured hair. He scrambled aside as Beck approached Toshiko, showing his empty, raised hands. Tosh couldn't blame him for being scared.

Despite his words, Owen was putting his gun on the deck. She saw Clark advance to pick it up. A tyro's mistake. Owen grabbed him by the collar and slammed him up against the chamber. A blue-white flash filled the whole room. So did Clark's scream and the sizzle of his electrocution. Beck swung on Owen, Toshiko shot him, and like that, it was over. Owen picked up his gun. He looked at Clark, and then turned him over so that his ghastly face could not be seen.

Lorens said something, and then repeated in English, "You shot him." Toshiko looked at his white face and shaking hands and diagnosed shock.

"Sit quietly, Lorens. No one has any reason to shoot you."

He startled to the sound of his name and Toshiko kept talking reassuringly to him as Owen checked out into the passage. "It's clear," he reported. "Will you be all right? I want to find Jack. The commlink is jammed."

Toshiko hadn't noticed the static in her earpiece until he mentioned it. "But isn't this room the primary target? If Jack doesn't come back, someone else will."

Lorens grabbed at her arm. "I don't want to stay here!"

"We'll all go, right? System can take care of itself. Right? Right. Come on." Owen checked the passage again. Tosh joined him, with Lorens crowding close behind her. They headed towards the bridge.

- o - O - o -

Tegan had witnessed the whole thing under System's Aegis. "Is that what you wanted, Eve? Revenge? I hated him too. He was a destroyer. He didn't care who he hurt. Now he's dead. How do you feel?"

"It is good to destroy your enemy." Tegan thought that the Thing's voice had been growing steadily weaker.

"Machines don't feel."

"Stop that. You're more. I bet the Gallifreyan tech in this thing saved more of Eve Morris than even the Doctor thought possible. If you take what this Thing is offering you, you'll become like James Clark. They're just alike. Don't you see that?"

"I killed him. The primary operator. Whom shall I serve?"

Tegan felt like she had to force the words out through sludge. Her voice was dual toned:  
"**You shall rule**/_Serve no one_."

Tegan's consciousness winked out. And like that, it was over.

- o - O - o -

The ship surged beneath their feet. They swayed, but could keep on their feet with the occasional use of their hands for balance. They went upstairs. Toshiko found herself wondering vaguely what the proper word was, and thinking it might be ladder. She bit her lip, hard, to centre her attention. Up ahead she could hear Allard Haussen's voice.

"Patwari! You are not in control. System is running this ship, and we have no idea what it's planning. We need to shut down the engines, or shut System down. Either way, we need you."

Owen hissed, "Jack!" Jack's head poked out around the corner. He grinned and motioned them forward, then made a hush sound with his hand. Owen came forward and started filling Jack in, keeping his voice down.

"Haussen, you were never anything more than a pen-pusher. You should have stuck to paper battles. You got my brother killed with your crazy schemes. He never believed in your vision. He brought me in planning to double-cross you." Captain Patwari laughed operatically.

Haussen's laugh was sharp and bitter. "To hand System over to another crazy schemer? The only difference between myself and Van Statten that you care about is the size of our bank accounts. By this measure, I'll admit myself the lesser man. This is not about Rad. This is about your immediate survival, and it is not I who threatens you."

Jack moved forward to join Haussen. Owen whispered to Tosh, "Ianto told Jack he spotted four armed, presumed hostiles heading for the ship. That was before the jamming kicked in."

Jack called out to Patwari, "If you were expecting Clark to handle System, he and his partner are dead. System electrocuted him. A homicidal computer is running your ship, Captain–well, you've been demoted, haven't you? System doesn't need a captain."

In the silence that followed Jack's announcement, they all heard gunfire from the deck.

- o - O - o -

Gwen strained to reach the gun. The ship remained heeled over, moving in a tight circle. Ianto had caught onto the rail on the other side, and was firing back at someone. Gwen pulled herself up on the rail and caught hold of the gun. She turned with her back to the rail, and pulled the trigger. A spray of bullets swept the area before her and she saw smashing glass on a structure.

She heard a cry from Ianto, and he rolled across the deck towards her, out of control. She dropped the gun and grabbed for him. He went over the rail, but she had his arm, his whole weight swinging from it. They were both screaming.

- o - O - o -

If anyone heard the TARDIS materializing, they did not come to meet it. System heard it. One workstation brought up the command interface. The Doctor stepped out and looked around in dismay at the carnage. He checked James Clark and recognized his face, even in its hideous condition.

"I killed him, Doctor."

"Ah, there you are, System. I've been trying to catch up with you."

"Am I System, or am I Eve Morris? Can a human be alive as a mind inside a computer?"

The Doctor examined the diagnostic readings on the chamber. Someone was inside. "If you can ask the question, you are more than a computer. I think, however, that you are not truly alive, Eve. Only an image of your mind survives, an incredibly detailed recording." Recording or not, he felt pity, and he let it show in his voice.

"You are correct, Doctor. My analysis of your data shows that a primitive version of Matrix technology has been incorporated into my design. However, I believe that absorbing your data allowed me to take full advantage of the technology. This was not an intended parameter of System's function."

The Doctor did some exploring on his own, using the workstation interface. "I believe your analysis is correct. Now, tell me, System…" He paused to clear his throat. "Is she all right? Did you cure Tegan?"

The chamber opened and the treatment bed slid out. Tegan lay there restrained, her body covered with a white, flaking material. The Doctor hurried over and checked the pulse at her wrist and her throat, then tried to brush the white stuff away. It was damp enough to resist his attempts.

"She is cured, Doctor. I promised. Look at the report on the procedure."

The Doctor left Tegan reluctantly to look at the display. "Fascinating," he murmured. "Logical, yet horrible–don't you see how cruel it was?"

"I promised," said System. "I protected her mind."

The Lal Ded shuddered. Thunder sounded loud enough for it to be heard even down in the insulated cabin.

"System, Eve… I'm grateful you kept your promise to me. However, I have to delete the data, on myself and on the Dalek tissue, and remove the Matrix technology. Do you understand what is going to happen if I do that?"

"I don't want to remain like this, Doctor. Let Eve die. But System can help people. Take away what doesn't belong in this time, on this world. I want this. Me, Eve Morris." The synthesizer sounded, at last, like a person. "I don't want to have died for nothing, Doctor."

"All right. Allow me full access to all System functions. I'll set up the program and you'll see what it's going to do before it runs." The Doctor's fingers flew over the keyboard.

"Doctor?" Tegan's voice could be harsh; right now she sounded like a crow with a sore throat.

"Not now, Tegan."

"I'm sea sick."

The Lal Ded had taken on an odd wallowing motion. The engines were barely turning over, and the action of the waves determined her course.

- o - O - o -

Glass smashed, a woman screamed, and Jack charged forward, firing. Allard Haussen was right behind them. Owen followed, but Lorens latched onto Tosh. "No, no, no," he whimpered, his hands like a vice on her wrist.

Tosh felt sorry for him, but not enough sorry to keep her from elbowing him in the face. He dropped away. She turned in time to see a man aiming a gun at Owen's back. He was soaking wet. She shot him once and he turned to her and fired. Lorens screamed. Her world was a cacophony of thunder and screaming men and whining bullets. She fired again. The man went down and Tosh rushed forward. Owen met her, checked her quickly. He asked something she couldn't hear, and she pushed him forward.

Ahead was the bridge, covered in broken glass and rain. The ship pitched in an odd, aimless motion. The first sound that Tosh heard was a scream from out on deck.

Jack shouted, "Gwen!" and jumped onto the bridge control panel then dove out the window. Tosh felt her foot hit something and looked down to see Captain Patwari with her throat torn open. The deck was awash in her blood. Allard Haussen went for the wheel.

System. She had to try to shut it down. Tosh turned and hurried down the passage again, ignoring Lorens huddled, whimpering form.

- o - O - o -

"And this power surge will destroy the crystal matrix?"

"Yes. Without the specifications or an existing sample, no one will be able to reproduce the technology. You're sure this is the last copy of the specifications?"

"Yes. Only one of my nodes can contain the specifications. This is the only operational node left."

"Excellent. All that's necessary is for you to run the program." The Doctor went to Tegan and started undoing her restraints. As she moved, the white crust broke off, showing bare skin. A lot of bare skin. In fact, it was going to be all the bare skin Tegan possessed. The Doctor retrieved a blanket from a dead woman's body and wrapped Tegan in it.

System asked, "Will it hurt?"

"Oh, Eve," Tegan said sorrowfully. Tears stood in her eyes.

"Nothing will hurt you ever again, Eve. I promise."

"Program activated. Goodbye, Tegan. Goodbye, Doctor." Arcs of electricity, or perhaps some other energy, raced across the equipment. The Doctor hastily picked Tegan up and carried her away from the treatment table. The lights flickered off and on several times, and then came back on full power. The workstations rebooted.

"Who are you?"

The Doctor turned, still holding Tegan in his arms. She was nearly limp and he was sure she could not stand alone. A slim Oriental woman was staring at them.

"Ms. Jovanka, you are alive. Oh my God. Your eyes… but your skin…"

"It's merely an effluent from the viral attack on the Dalek tissue… eyes?" The Doctor looked down at Tegan's face. She stared up at him. "Her eyes look fine to me."

For some reason Tegan burst into tears. Quiet tears, fortunately, she turned her face against his shoulder and proceeded to make his celery soggy. It was definitely time to leave.

"She's fine," the Doctor said cheerfully. "If you'll excuse us, can't stay, must dash. I think it will be all right here. System should be back up in a minute."

Tosh stared at the man in the old-fashioned cricket whites. Where did he think he was going with Tegan?

He backed into the blue box, which was barely big enough to hold them both. Tosh tried her commlink. "Jack? Anyone? There's the oddest man down here and a blue box… a… uh…"

The TARDIS dematerialised. She'd heard that sound before, hadn't she?

There was a cursing in her ear. Tosh heard feet pounding along the passageway. Jack nearly knocked her over coming in. He cursed for a full minute in a variety of languages, then wheeled on Tosh and shook her by the shoulders. "What did he look like?"

"Uh… blond, tall, likes cricket–I mean, he was wearing formal cricket whites. He took Tegan."

Jack stared at her. His desolate expression was slowly replaced by a smile, and that, for some reason, worried her even more.

"Wrong one, anyway," he said, and let go. "Sorry. How was Tegan?"

"Patient Tegan Jovanka, status: Recovered, released. System reports all functions fully operational under new configuration. Mode: stand by." The computer voice was almost innocent in its lack of human intonation.

"He said there was a report." It only took a minute for Tosh to pull it up at the workstation. "It says all the Dalek tissue was destroyed."

Jack had a hand to his ear. "I figured as much. I'm only glad the ship wasn't blown up with us on it. It was a closer call than you may ever know, Toshiko. Ianto was shot in the arm. Owen and Gwen have him in sickbay, along with Haussen's man who was injured." He came to stand behind her. "Can you tell me the scope of System's function now?"

"It will take me a while. It doesn't seem to be responding as powerfully as before. The AI command interface has been scaled down, that's obvious."

"I need a full report. If you can get it for me before Allard Haussen comes down here, that would be peachy. He's taking us back to the anchorage, under manual control."

She heard the sound of feet as crew moved around the ship. "Jack, is that–"

"I let Haussen's crew out of their quarters. Good thing, I don't think he's ever conned a ship this size on his own. I'll give him one thing, he handles stress well."

"Is Ianto badly hurt?"

"He's lost blood, but Owen seemed sure he'd be okay. All of you did well today, Toshiko. I'm very proud of you all." Jack squeezed her shoulders. Toshiko patted his hand and continued with her analysis of the data System was releasing without demur. Jack walked away. She glanced over her shoulder and saw him standing, head bowed, in the spot where the blue box had stood.

tbc


	12. 11 Epilogue

Thanks everyone who reads this far. I appreciate it. My mind is your mind, my thoughts are your thoughts.

* * *

"The idea was to put a network architecture in place that could coordinate the defence of the whole world against alien incursions." Haussen stood close by Lorens. His presence seemed to reassure the young computer tech.

"It won't handle that scope of operations now," Tosh said. "I think Lorens is right, that System rewrote itself. It is configured to match more closely the ideas of the late Doctor Chambers. A system to run a medical facility and coordinate information. You couldn't repeat what was done to Tegan. It only worked because that specific alien virus was designed to work against the specific alien tissue infesting her body."

"The data area on alien species has been subtracted. The holographic information nexus has regressed." Lorens glanced at the scorched bit of floor. "The data Mr. Clark was so keen to access."

Tosh was watching Jack, but he didn't so much as blink. Owen, standing next to him, wore a grim expression. Lorens continued.

"It sounds like a lobotomy, but it's more like devolution. System's data processing matrix has become exponentially less complex. It's not holding back information any more because the information is not there to hold back. According to the logs–and the logs are not complete--System ran a program that physically destroyed some hardware, and completely rewrote firmware and software. Imagine a PC that had its operating system rebuilt to run DOS instead of Windows Vista. Or going from a modern car to a bicycle. It will still get you somewhere, only much slower, and only as far as the work you're prepared to put in getting you there."

A faint smile crossed Haussen's lips. "Less powerful and less dangerous. However, it is still valuable. Treating people who have been injured by alien contact is a difficult task that deserves to have resources devoted to it. Databases can be rebuilt, a piece of information at a time."

Tosh saw Gwen touch Jack's arm and look at him hopefully. He glanced down at her, and then asked Tosh, "How about the remote data processing node functionality. Does that still work at all?"

Toshiko felt transparent under his gaze and wondered if he knew she'd moved a node to the Hub. Of course, she had planned to tell him, later. "In a far more limited fashion."

Jack smiled at Haussen. "We'll take one. In the spirit of cooperation, we'll even share medical data. After all, it's mutually beneficial." Jack sounded like he was doing Haussen a favour, but it was more like a proprietary claim. Toshiko watched Haussen. If they hadn't shown up, either Clark would be in control or the ship would have gone down. Toshiko would have bet on the latter outcome. The point was, Haussen owed them.

If he felt pressured, it did not show. "Of course. I'm grateful that you see it this way, Captain Harkness. If only our friends across the pond were so sensible."

Toshiko was sure he meant Van Statten. She'd never heard someone called an arsehole so politely.

- o - O - o -

The Doctor wished he'd picked up Peri and Erimem. He hadn't anticipated picking up Tegan, and especially in this condition. He'd rarely seen Tegan so demoralized. And never so unclothed. Her maturity showed in her practical acceptance of the situation. She couldn't walk unassisted, and needed his help to shower off the white pus that had dried all over her body. It had erupted from every orifice, every pore of her skin. People had been driven mad by suffering such pain. She had undergone two hours of the procedure that rebuilt her body, with the central nervous system primarily affected. Only while conscious could all her neural functions could be integrated with the new cells. That System had been able to hold her conscious mind suspended in the matrix was the only thing that spared her the full agony.

Her ordeal had been rewarded. Tegan's body had been rebuilt to the point of rejuvenation. The Doctor estimated that on average she'd been set back a decade. As the crud was removed, the skin underneath was revealed as almost flawless. The mole on her brow remained. Tegan had been quite pleased by that. According to her, there was also less grey in her hair, though he did not know how she could tell by looking at the velvety fuzz on her skull.

She let him examine her without putting up a fuss. The Doctor was pleased to be able to confirm there was no trace of Dalek DNA left in her system. System had done such a thorough job that he could barely make out the section of her skull that had been sawn through in the initial operation.

"One thing I never understood was why the tumour took twenty years to grow."

"Oh, that's obvious." Subjected to Tegan's outraged glare, the Doctor went on, "You were exposed to the Movellan virus. The Dalek stem cell was lodged deep in your brain matter. It couldn't spread because the Movellan virus had a vaccine effect. Eventually, that protection weakened."

"But I'm all right now, Doctor?"

"One hundred percent, Tegan." He smiled at her, and saw her face light up in return. She looked so absurdly young with her hair cropped.

Tegan had rescued from the wardrobe the multicoloured dress she'd worn on Gallifrey. Gaudier than any butterfly, she wore it with the assurance he'd always associated with her. "Then take me home, please."

He must have looked disappointed. It was unfair, he knew. One of Tegan's strengths had always been that she was an ordinary person, and had never been ashamed of it. If the Doctor had been asked to name examples of ordinary people who had done extraordinary things, Tegan would have ranked high on the list.

She laughed at him. "Back to the animal feed, right? I know it doesn't seem glamorous to you, Doctor, but I don't care. What do you save the world for if not so ordinary people can have their ordinary lives? They may not be interesting, but–"

"They're necessary. Quite right, Tegan. If you are truly happy, that's what I want for you. Even if you could do better for yourself than Michael." The Doctor knew he sounded petulant, and blushed slightly.

Tegan took him by the lapels. "You know how I said I was never in love with you, Doctor?"

Warmth crept up from under the Doctor's collar again. "You were quite definitive about it, Tegan. Yes, I recall."

"I meant every word of it. But that doesn't mean I don't love you dearly, only without any silly romance or pining away. I love you, and I always will. You got that?"

"I do. Ahem." Gallifreyans were taught to handle emotion by not being emotional. The Doctor regretted his awkwardness at moments like this, but he was deeply touched all the same.

Tegan pulled herself up by his lapels, kissed him softly on the lips, and then let go. "Thank you, Doctor. Now, take me home. None of this getting lost, either. Anywhere on the Australian continent will do, as long as it's today."

The Doctor smiled sweetly. "Already done. The TARDIS has materialized behind your apartment. And I believe that's your Mr. Tanaka beating on the door." He activated the monitor.

Tegan looked at Michael Tanaka's angry, upset face, then at the Doctor's smiling one. "Very funny, Doctor. It's a good thing I already kissed you goodbye, isn't it? I'll find my own way out." She pushed the door lever and the TARDIS doors whirred. She went through.

The Doctor heard Michael's rush of questions, then Tegan's yelp as he swept her off her feet. He closed the door.

"Goodbye, Tegan."

- o - O - o -

Three months later, Tegan received an invitation to lunch in Brisbane on paper with a United Nations letterhead. She was met by a black limousine, and was unsurprised, on getting in, to see Allard Haussen.

He kissed her hand in the old European style. "I am pleased to see you are well, Ms. Jovanka. Your doctors are most baffled."

"Hmph. They were baffled to begin with."

Lunch was a posh affair. One didn't get calories from food like this. It was too high class to have anything so plebeian. Tegan didn't let on that she genuinely preferred simpler fare. This was not about eating. Haussen delivered information in discreet sound bites. James Clark was dead. All traces of information on aliens had been removed from System. Van Statten had come way empty-handed. Haussen planned to use System in treating patients who were suffering from conditions induced by alien contact. To do this without mentioning the word 'alien' even once was a tribute to his ability to use language. Being a bureaucrat was clearly a job that would never suit Tegan. She simply couldn't think sideways.

It wasn't until they were driving back to her office that she asked the real question.

"So why come to see me?"

He'd been waiting to give her the real answer until now. "I wanted to assure you that you should see no repercussions from this affair. It has been made clear to all interested parties that you no longer harbour any alien tissue. It has also been implied that you have no information of any value. You and I both know that this isn't true."

Tegan decided to be blunt. "U.N.I.T. knows as much about the Doctor as I do."

"Perhaps, but you have had unique experiences of your own. However, I have no intention to risk antagonizing the Doctor by harassing his friends. It is your choice to be a contact, or to cut off this connection entirely. I have made it your choice." He looked at her levelly. Allard Haussen's face was accustomed to keeping secrets. He would keep hers, if that's what she wanted.

"Is that the only reason you're here?"

Tegan had got to know Allard Haussen under unique circumstances. He was not a man to show his emotions any more than the Doctor was. Perhaps even less so. The Doctor, however, would not have leaned over and kissed her.

A part of Tegan had always fancied the man even when he was kidnapping her and shooting her with tranquilliser darts like a wild animal. She had thought his kiss would be like this: ruthless, efficient, competent, and despite his self-control, passionate. Michael Tanaka would never kiss her like this. It simply wasn't in him.

At the end of the kiss, she looked at him with appreciation. It meant something to him to expose his emotions like this. She shouldn't have let it go so far. Frankly, she invited it. Tegan blamed her hormones. "I'm pregnant," she told him.

"Congratulations," he said without blinking. There, a man with self-control like that would drive her crazy. Then she wondered if he'd known, and that made her feel a little crazy. Tegan wanted out of a world where people thought like that all the time.

"Allard, I don't want that way of life any more. It nearly killed me. That's all right, I'm not so selfish that I wouldn't trade my life to protect this world."

"I noticed that about you." He smiled enough to let it show in his eyes.

"The governments of the world go to a lot of trouble to cover up the existence of aliens. Why do they do it? Because they want people to live ordinary human lives. To be human. And that's a good thing. People like you and U.N.I.T. and Jack Harkness's people, they work hard to keep the world a peaceful place where people can define what it is to be human. Someday, the human race will go to the stars. I've seen it. When that happens, we'll have something to offer that is uniquely ours. I want to be a part of that."

The limousine pulled up in front of her company.

"Then I wish you well in your endeavour. You bring… nobility to it." It was not a word someone like Allard Haussen used lightly.

"Thank you. I'm glad you came to see me, though. The kiss alone was worth it." She grinned at him. The chauffeur opened her door.

"I think so myself. Goodbye, Tegan."

"Goodbye, Allard." Tegan stepped out of the limo and walked back into her life. As ordinary as she considered herself, she still valued what living another way had given her. Running an animal feed company in Australia would probably not have put her in the way of the poetry of Lal Ded. There was an extraordinary and very human life worth valuing.

That night, she read to Michael from the slim book of translated poetry. From other men, she would have expected the trapped expression of a bloke being exposed against his will to culture. One of Michael's virtues was that he didn't worry about looking macho. What he liked, he liked.

Tegan considered the end of the poem she'd just read. "I like some of this but not all. She's always off seeing God, but is she really living in this world? It's all very well for her to leave her family and run around naked. What would the world be like if everyone tuned in, turned on, and dropped out?"

"You're always so practical, Tegan. Why did you buy the book, then?" Michael lounged on the bed, wearing the bottom half of the pyjamas of which she was wearing the top. The most obvious change to her body was an extra roundness in the middle, but her own clothes had started to feel snug. The pregnancy had been a choice of her body to celebrate life that Tegan had not planned, yet now welcomed.

"If I rejected it because I didn't like all of it, that would be pretty close-minded of me. I know it's translated, but it's so simple. The translator couldn't have mucked around with it much."

"Read that last one again. I can tell it means something to you."

It was her favourite in the book. Tegan had learned to appreciate that poetry said things without needing to use exact words. Even through the translation, Lal Ded spoke for her.

The soul, like the moon,  
is new, and always new again.  
And I have seen the ocean   
continuously creating.  
Since I scoured my mind  
and my body, I too, Lalla,  
am new, each moment new.  
- Lal Ded, from 'The Soul'

The End


End file.
